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A  LIST  OF  THE  ELSIE  BOOKS  AND 
OTHER  POPULAR  BOOKS 

BY 

MARTHA  FINLEY 


ELSIE  DINSMORE. 

ELSIE'S  HOLIDAYS  AT  ROSELANDS. 
ELSIE'S  GIRLHOOD. 

ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 
ELSIE'S  MOTHERHOOD. 
ELSIE'S  CHILDREN. 
ELSIE'S  WIDOWHOOD. 

GRANDMOTHER  ELSIE. 

ELSIE'S  NEW  RELATIONS. 
ELSIE  AT  NANTUCKET. 
THE  TWO  ELSIES. 

ELSIE'S  KITH  AND  KIN. 
ELSIE'S  FRIENDS  AT  WOODS  URN. 

CHRISTMAS  WITH  GRANDMA  ELSIE. 
ELSIE  AND   THE  RA  YMONDS. 

ELSIE  YACHTING  WITH  THE  RA  YMONDS. 
ELSIE'S  VACATION. 
ELSIE  AT  VI AM  ED  E. 
ELSIE  AT  ION. 

ELSIE  AT  THE  WORLD'S  FAIR. 

ELSIE'S  JOURNEY  ON  INLAND   WATERS. 
ELSIE  AT  HOME. 

ELSIE  ON  THE  HUDSON. 
ELSIE  IN  THE  SOUTH. 


MILDRED  KEITH. 

MILDRED  AT  ROSELANDS. 

MILDRED'S  MARRIED  LIFE. 
MILDRED  AND  ELSIE. 
MILDRED  AT  HOME. 

MILDRED'S  BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 
MILDRED'S  NEW  DA  UGHTER. 


CASELLA. 

SIGNING  THE  CONTRACT  AND  WHAT  IT  COST. 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  WILD  RIVER  VALLEY. 
OUR  FRED. 

AN  OLD-FASHIONED  BOY. 
WANTED,  A  PEDIGREE. 

THE  THORN  IN  THE  NEST. 


ELSIE'S 
WOMANHOOD 

A  SEQUEL  TO 

"ELSIE'S    GIRLHOOD" 

BY 

MARTHA  FINLEY  (FARQUHARSON) 

Author  of  "Elsie  Dinsmore,"  "Elsie's  Holidays,"  "Elsie's 
Girlhood,"  "Our  Fred,"  "Wanted,  a  Pedigree,"  Etc. 


1 A  perfect  woman,  nobly  plann'd 
To  warn,  to  comfort  and  command  ;  , 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright, 
With  something  of  an  angel  light." 

Wordsworth. 


* 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

DODD  &  MEAD 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


THE  BURR  PRINTING  HOUSE,  NEWYOflJC 


PEE  FACE. 


The  call  for  a  sequel  to  "  Elsie's  Girlhood  y 
haying  become  too  loud  and  importunate  to  be 
resisted,  the  pleasant  task  of  writing  it  was  un- 
dertaken. 

Dates  compelled  thn  bringing  in  of  the  late 
war  :  and  it  has  been  the  earnest  desire  and  effort 
of  the  author  to  so  treat  the  subject  as  to  wound 
the  feelings  of  none ;  to  be  as  impartial  as  if 
writing  history ;  and,  by  drawing  a  true,  though 
alas,  but  faint  picture,  of  the  great  losses  and 
sufferings  on  both  sides,  to  make  the  very 
thought  of  a  renewal  of  the  awful  strife  utterly 
abhorrent  to  every  lover  of  humanity,  and  espe- 
cially of  this,  our  own  dear  native  land. 

Are  we  not  one  people :  speaking  the  same 
language  ;  worshipping  the  one  true  and  living 
God ;  having  a  common  history,  a  common 
ancestry;    and  united  by  the  tenderest  tiei  oi 

696706 


4  PREFACE. 

blood  ?  And  is  not  this  great  grand,  glorious  old 
Union — known  and  respected  all  over  the  world — 
our  common  country,  our  joy  and  pride  ?  0 !  let 
us  forget  all  bitterness,  and  live  henceforth  in 
love,  harmony,  and  mutual  helpfulness. 

For  all  I  know  of  the  Teche  country  I  am 
indebted  to  Mr.  Edward  King's  "  Old  and  New 
Louisiana  " ;  for  facts  and  date3  in  regard  to  the 
war,  and  in  large  measure  for  Mr.  Dinsmore's 
views  as  to  its  causes,  etc.,  principally  to  Head- 
ley's  "History  of  the  Great  Rebellion. " 

The  description  of  Andersonville,  and  the  life 
led  by  the  prisoners  there,  was  supplied  by  one 
who  shared  it  for  six  months.  An  effort  was 
made  to  obtain  a  sketch  of  a  Northern  prison 
also,  but  without  success. 

Yet  what  need  to  balance  accounts  in  respect 
to  these  matters  ?  The  unnatural  strife  is  over, 
and  we  are  again  ona  united  people. 

11  F. 


Cjragter  Jfirst. 


«*  Oh  I  there  is  one  affection  which  no  stain 
Of  earth  can  ever  darken  ;— when  two  And, 
The  goiter  and  the  manlier,  that  a  chain 
Of  kindred  taate  has  fastened  mind  to  mind." 

— PlEOTTjkl.'B  POKSCS. 

Ik  one  of  the  cool  green  alleys  at  the  Oaks, 
Rose  and  Adelaide  Dinsmore  were  pacing  slowly 
to  and  fro,  each  with  an  arm  about  the  other's 
waist,  in  girlish  fashion,  while  they  conversed 
together  in  low,  confidential  tones. 

At  a  little  distance  to  one  side,  the  young 
son  and  heir  had  thrown  himself  prone  upon  the 
grass  in  the  shade  of  a  magnificent  oak,  story- 
book in  hand.  Much  interested  he  seemed  in 
his  book,  yet  occasionally  his  eye  would  wander 
from  its  fascinating  pages  to  watch,  with  pride 
and  delight,  the  tiny  Eosebud  steady  herself 
against  a  tree,  then  run  with  eager,  tottering 
steps  and  a  crow  of  delight  into  her  nurse's  out- 
stretched arms,  to  be  hugged,  kissed,  praised,  and 
coaxed  to  try  it  oyer  again. 

As  Rose  and  Adelaide  turned  at  one  end  ot 
the  alley,  Mr  Horace  Dinsmore  entered  it  at  the 


6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

other.  Hurriedly  approaching  the  little  toddle^ 
he  stooped  and  held  out  his  hands,  saying,  ii» 
tender,  half-tremulous  tones,  "Come,  darling, 
come  to  papa." 

She  ran  into  his  arms,  crying,  "Papa,"  ic 
her  sweet  baby  voice,  and  catching  her  up,  he 
covered  her  face  with  kisses ;  then,  holding  her 
clasped  fondly  to  his  breast,  walked  on  toward  his 
wife  and  sister. 

"  What  is  it,  Horace  ?  "  asked  Rose  anxiously, 
as  they  neared  each  other  ;  for  she  saw  that  his 
face  was  pale  and  troubled. 

"  I  bring  you  strange  tidings,  my  Rose,"  he 
answered  low  and  sadly,  as  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm  with  an  affectionate  look  up  into 
his  face. 

Hers  grew  pale.  "  Bad  news  from  home  ?  " 
she  almost  gasped. 

"  No,  no  ;  I've  had  no  word  from  our  absent 
relatives  or  friends,  and  I'm  not  sure  I  ought 
to  call  it  bad  news  either  ;  though  I  cannot  yet 
think  of  it  with  equanimity,  it  has  come  upoa 
me  so  suddenly." 

"What?"  asked  both  ladies  in  a  breath; 
"  don't  keep  us  in  suspense." 

"  It  has  been  going  on  for  years — on  his  part 
— I  can  see  it  now — but,  blind  fool  that  I  was,  1 
never  suspected  it  till  to-day,  when  it  came  upoii 
me  like  a  thunderbolt." 

"  What  ?  who  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  ? 

"  Trayilla  ;  after  years  of  patient  waiting  he 
has  won  her  at  last — our  darling — and — and  I've 
given  her  to  him." 

Both  ladies  stood  dumb  with  astonishment, 
while  young  Horace,  who  had  come  running  up 
In  time  to  catch  the  last  words,  cried  out  with 
vehemence,  "  Papa  !  what !  give  our  Elsie  away  ? 
how  could  you  ?  how  can  we  ever  do  without 
her  ?  But  she  shan't  go,  for  she  belongs  to  me 
too,  and  I'll  never  give  consent ! " 

Mr.  Dinsmore  and  the  ladies  smiled  faintly. 

"  They  seemed  to  think  mine  quite  sufficient, 
Horace,"  replied  his  father,  ' '  and  I'm  afraid  will 
hardly  consider  it  necessary  to  ask  yours." 

"But,  papa,  we  can't  spare  her — you  know 
we  can't — and  why  should  you  go  and  give  he* 
away  to  Mr.  Travilla  or  anybody  ?  " 

"  My  son,  had  I  refused,  it  would  have  caused 
her  great  unhappiness." 

"  Then  she  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  go  and 
love  Mr.  Travilla  better  than  you  and  all  of  us." 

"  I  was  never  more  astonished  in  my  life  I " 
cried  Adelaide. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Rose.  "  And  he's  a  great  deal 
too  old  for  her." 

"  That  is  an  objection,"  replied  her  husband, 
u  but  if  not  insuperable  to  her,  need  not  be  to  us." 

"Think  of  your  intimate  friend  addressing 
you  as  father  ! "  laughed  Adelaide ;  "  its  realty 
too  ridiculous." 


8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  That  need  not  be — is  not  an  inevitalle  con- 
sequence of  the  match,"  smiled  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
softly  caressing  the  little  one  clinging  about  his 
neck. 

Still  conyersing  on  the  same  subject,  the 
minds  of  all  being  full  of  it  to  the  exclusion  of 
every  other,  they  moved  on  as  if  by  common  con- 
sent toward  the  house. 

"  Do  you  think  it  can  be  possible  that  she  is 
really  and  truly  in  love  with  him  ? "  queried 
Eose  ;  "a  man  so  much  older  than  herself,  and 
so  intimate  in  the  family  since  her  early  child- 
hood." 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  my  dear,"  said  Mi. 
Dinsmore,  as  a  turn  in  the  path  brought  them 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  lovers,  who  were 
moving  slowly  in  their  direction  so  that  the 
two  parties  must  meet  in  another  moment. 

One  glance  at  the  beaming  faces,  the  rich 
color  coming  and  going  in  Elsie's  cheek,  the  soft, 
glad  light  in  her  sweet  brown  eyes,  was  a  suffi- 
cient reply  to  Rose's  question.  She  looked  s,\ 
her  husband  with  a  satisfied  smile,  which  he 
returned. 

But  little  Horace,  leaving  his  father's  side, 
rushed  up  to  Elsie,  and  catching  her  hand  in 
his,  cried,  "  111  never  give  my  consent !  and  you 
belong  to  me.    Mr.  Travilla,  you  can't  have  her." 

To  the  child's  surprise  Elsie  only  blushed 
and    sm  led,  while    Mr.  Travilla,  without   the 


EL8IE>8  WOMANHOOD  9 

slightest  appearance  of  alarm  or  vexation,  said, 
"  Ah,  my  dear  boy,  you  may  just  as  well ;  for 
she  is  willing  to  be  mine  and  your  papa  has 
given  her  to  me." 

But  the  others  had  come  up,  and  inquiring 
looks,  smiles  and  kindly  greetings  were  exchanged. 

"  Mr.  Travilla,"  said  Eose,  half  playfully  but 
with  a  tear  trembling  in  her  eye,  "you  have 
stolen  a  march  upon  us,  and  I  can  hardly  for- 
give you  just  yet." 

"I  regret  that  exceedingly,  my  dear  madam, " 
he  answered,  with  a  smile  that  belied  his  words, 
"But  Miss  Adelaide,  you  will  still  stand  my 
friend  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  demurely; 
"  there's  only  one  serious  objection  in  my  mind 
(if  Elsie  is  satisfied)  ;  that  I  don't  quite  fancy 
having  a  nephew  some  year3  older  than  myself." 

"  Ah  !  well,  I  shall  be  quite  willing  to  he 
considered  a  brother-in-law," 

"  Company  to  dinner  ! "  shouted  Horace.  "  I 
see  a  carriage  ;  don't  you,  papa  ?  " 

"  It  is  your  uncle  Edward's,"  said  Mr.  Travilla, 

"Yes"  said  Adelaide,  "Lora  and  her  tribe 
are  in  it,  no  doubt ;  and  probably  Mrs.  Bowles 
too  (Carrie  Howard  you  know,  Elsie).  They 
have  been  late  in  calling." 

"  Some  good  reason  for  it,  and  they  are  none 
the  less  welcome,"  remarked  Ko*e,  quickening 
her  pace. 


10  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

The  one  party  reached  the  house  just  as  the 
other  two  had  fairly  alighted,  and  a  scene  of 
joyous  greeting  ensued. 

"  You  dear  child  !  how  good  of  you  to  come 
back  to  us  again,  and  single  too,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Bowles,  clasping  Elsie  in  a  warm  embrace  ;  "  I'd 
almost  given  it  up,  and  expected  by  every  mail 
to  hear  you  had  become  Lady  or  Countess  this, 
or  Duchess  that." 

Elsie  smiled  and  blushed,  and  meeting  the 
eye  of  her  betrothed  fixed  for  an  instant  upon  her 
with  an  expression  of  unutterable  content,  thank- 
fulness, love  and  pride,  smiled  and  blushed  again, 

Carrie  caught  the  look  and  its  effect  upon  her 
friend,  and  almost  breathless  with  astonishment, 
took  the  first  opportunity,  after  all  were  seated  in 
the  drawing-room,  to  prefer  a  whispered  request 
to  be  taken  to  Elsie's  own  private  apartment  for 
a  moment,  to  see  that  her  hair  and  dress  were 
in  proper  order. 

They  had  come  to  spend  the  day,  and  bon- 
nets and  shawls  had  already  been  carried  away  by 
the  servants  in  attendance. 

"  Now  girls,  don't  run  off  for  an  interminable 
chat  by  yourselves,"  said  Mrs.  Howard,  as  the 
two  rose  and  crossed  the  room  together. 

"  No,  Aunt  Lora,  we'll  not  stay  long,"  said 
Elsie  ;  "  for  I  want  to  improve  every  moment  of 
your  visit,  in  renewing  my  acquaintance  with 
you  and  my  young  cousins.  ' 


KLSlB'Jb  WOMANHOOD,  11 

u  Your  family  has  grown,  Lora,"  remarked 
aer  brother. 

"Yes,  rather  faster  than  jours,"  she  said; 
looking  round  with  pride  upon  her  little  group 
of  four  boys,  and  a  girl  yet  in  her  nurse's  arms, 
"  Go  and  3peak  to  your  uncle,  Ned,  "Walter, 
Horace,  and  Arthur.  You  see  I  have  given  you 
a  name-sake  ;  and  this  little  pet  we  call  Rose 
Louise,  for  her  two  aunties.  Yours  is  Rose,  too  I 
and  what  a  darling  !  and  how  little  Horace  has 
grown  I " 

"Elsie,  it  can't  be  possible  !"  cried  Carrie, 
\he  instant  they  found  themselves  alone. 

"  What  can't  ?"  and  Elsie's  blush  and  smile 
were  charming. 

"  That  you  and  Mr.  Travilla  are  lovers !  I 
saw  it  in  your  faces  ;  but,  'tis  too  absurd  I  "Why, 
he's  your  father's  friend,  and  nearly  as  olcL" 

"All  the  wiser  and  better  for  that,  Carrie, 
dear.  But  he  is  young  in  heart,  and  far  from 
looking  old,  I  think.  I  have  grown  so  sick  of 
your  silly,  brainless  fops,  who  expect  women 
neither  to  talk  sense  nor  understand  it." 

"Ah,  I  daresay!  and  Mr,  Trayilla  is  the 
most  sensible  and  polished  of  men — always  ex- 
cepting my  own  spouse,  o*  course.  And  you 
won't  be  taken  away  from  us  ;  so  I  give  mj 
consent" 

Elsie's  only  answer  was  a  mirthful,  amused 
look. 

!• 


12  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Oh,  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you  back  !  *  Carrie 
ran  on.     "  It  seems  an  age  since  you  went  away," 

"  Thank  you.  And  your  husband  ?  what  is 
he  like?" 

"  I  was  never  good  at  description,  but  he  is  a 
fine  specimen  of  a  Kentucky  planter,  and  very 
fond  of  his  wife.  By  the  way,  you  must  blame 
me  that  Edward  and  Lora  were  so  late  in  wel- 
coming you  home.  I  arrived  only  yesterday 
morning,  quite  fatigued  with  my  journey,  and 
begged  them  to  wait  till  to-day,  and  bring 
me  with  them." 

"  That  was  right.  We  have  not  seen  Enna 
yet,  or  Arthur.  Grandpa  and  Mrs.  Dinsmore 
and  Walter  called  yesterday.  But  there  is  the 
dinner-bell.  Let  me  conduct  you  to  the  dining- 
room.  " 

They  were  just  in  time  to  sit  down  with  the 
others. 

Elsie  quickly  perceived  by  her  Aunt  Lora's 
look  and  manner,  that  she,  too,  had  heard  the 
news,  but  no  remark  was  made  on  the  subject 
till  the  ladies  had  retired  to  the  drawing-room, 
leaving  the  gentlemen  to  the  enjoyment  of  their 
after-dinner  cigars. 

Then  Mrs.  Howard,  facing  round  upon  her 
niece  as  they  entered  the  room,  exclaimed, 
"Elsie,  you  naughty  child  I  are  you  not  ashamed 
of  yourself  ?  " 

"  On  account  of  what,  auntie  ?  * 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  IS 

"  Such  unconscious  innocence  ! "  cried  Lora, 
tlrrowing  up  the  white  and  jewelled  hands  she  had 
rested  lightly  for  an  instant  upon  the  young 
girl's  shoulder,  while  gazing  steadily  into  the 
smiling,  blushing,  sparkling  face.  "  You  haven't 
been  planning  and  promising  to  giye  Adelaide 
and  me  a  nephew  older  than  ourselves  ?  I  tell 
you,  miss,  I  refuse  my  consent.  Why,  it's  ab- 
surd !  the  very  idea  !  I  used  to  think  him  almost 
an  elderly  gentleman  when  you  were  a  chit  of 
eight  or  nine." 

"I  remember  having  had  some  such  idea 
myself ;  but  he  must  have  been  growing  young 
since  then,"  returned  Elsie,  demurely. 

"  He  seems  to  have  been  standing  still  (wait- 
ing for  you,  I  suppose)  ;  but  I  never  was  more 
astonished  in  my  life  ! "  said  Lora,  dropping  into 
a  chair. 

"  It  has  been  a  genuine  surprise  to  us  all," 
remarked  Rose. 

"  To  me  as  much  as  any  one,  mamma,"  said 
Elsie.  "I — had  thought  he  was  engaged  to 
you,    Aunt  Adie." 

"To  »w,  child!" 

"  Why,  my  dear,  I  surely  told  you  about  her 
engagement  to  my  brother  Edward  ?  "  exclaimed 
Adelaide  and  Rose  simultaneously. 

"  You  tried,  mamma,  and  it  was  all  my  own 
fault  that  I  did  not  hear  the  whole  truth.  And, 
Aunt  Adie,  I  cannot  understand  how  he  could 


14  JSLSIS'S  WOMANHOOD. 

ever  fancy  me,  while  he  might  have  hoped  there 
was  a  possibility  of  winning  you." 

"  'Twould  have  been  a  much  more  suitable 
match/'  said  Lora.  "  Though  I'd  have  preferred 
the  one  in  contemplation,  except  that  in  the 
other  case,  she  would  not  be  carried  quite  away 
from  us.  But  suppose  we  proceed  to  business. 
We  should  have  a  double  wedding,  I  think," 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  of  it  yet,"  said  Kose,  with 
a  slight  tremble  in  her  voice,  and  looking  at 
Elsie's  flushed,  conscious  face  with  eyes  full  of 
unshed  tears.  "Adelaide's  is  to  be  within  the 
next  two  months,  and — we  cannot  give  up  Elsie 
so  suddenly." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Adelaide ;  "  and  I 
should  have  serious  objections  to  being  used  as  a 
foil  to  Elsie's  youth  and  beauty." 

The  Howards  and  Mr.  Travilla  stayed  to  tea, 
and  shortly  before  that  meal  the  party  was  in- 
creased by  the  arrival  of  Walter  Dinamore  and 
Mrs.  Dick  Percival. 

Enna  had  lost  flesh  and  color ;  and  long 
indulgence  of  a  fretful,  peevish  temper  had 
drawn  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  lined  hex 
forehead,  and  left  its  ugly  pencil] ings  here  and 
there  over  the  once  pretty  face,  so  that  it.  already 
began  to  look  old  and  care-worn.  She  was  very 
gayly  dressed,  in  the  height  of  the  fashion,  and 
rather  overloaded  with  jewelry  ;  but  powder  and 
rouge  could  not  altogether  conceal  the  ravages  of 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  15 

discontent  and  passion.  She  was  coiscious  of  the 
fact,  and  inwardly  dwelt  with  mortification  and 
chagrin  upon  the  contrast  presented  by  her  own 
faded  face  to  that  of  Elsie,  so  fair  and  blooming. 
so  almost  childish  in  its  sweet  purity  and  inno- 
cence of  expression. 

"  So  yon  are  single  yet,"  Enna  said,  with  a 
coyert  sneer ;  "  and  not  likely  to  marry  either* 
so  far  as  I've  been  able  to  learn.  They'll  soon 
begin  to  call  you  an  old  maid." 

"Will  they?"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  with  & 
laugh  in  which  all  present  joined,  Enna  herself 
excepted ;  "  well,  if  she  is  a  fair  specimen  of  that 
much-abused  class,  they  are  far  more  attractive 
than  is  generally  supposed." 

"You  needn't  laugh,"  said  Enna;  "I  was 
four  years  younger  than  she  is  now,  wben  I 
married.  I  wasn't  going  to  wait  till  they  began 
to  call  me  an  old  maid," 

"To  bear  that  reproach  is  not  the  worst 
calamity  that  can  befall  a  woman,"  replied  Mr. 
Dinsmore  gravely ;  then  changed  the  subject  by 
&  kind  inquiry  in  regard  to  Arthur. 

"  Slowly  and  steadily  improving,"  answered 
Walter.  "  The  doctors  are  now  satisfied  that  he 
is  not  permanently  crippled,  thotgh  he  still  uses 
a  crutch." 


<%gfer  jfaonfc 


Mutual  love,  the  crown  of  all  our  bllee." 

—Milton's  Puuj>is«  Lo«7. 


After  a  half  hour  of  waiting  for  her  son'g 
return,  Mrs-  Travilla  sat  down  to  her  lonely  cup 
of  tea.  There  was  no  lack  of  delicacies  on  the 
table,  and  in  all  Edward's  taste  had  been  con- 
sulted. To  make  him  comfortable  and  happj 
was,  next  to  serving  her  God,  the  great  aim  and 
object  of  his  mother's  life  ;  and,  in  a  less  degree, 
of  that  of  every  servant  in  the  house.  They  had 
all  been  born  and  brought  up  at  Ion,  and  had  all 
these  years  known  him  as  the  kindest,  most  rea- 
sonable and  considerate  of  masters. 

"  Wish  Massa  Edard  come.  Dese  waffles  jesJ 
prime  to-night,  an'  he  so  fond  ob  dem,"  remarked 
a  pretty  mulatto  girl,  handing  a  plate  of  them  to 
her  mistress. 

"  Yes,  Prilla,  he  expected  to  be  at  home,  but 
Is  probably  taking  tea  at  the  Oaks  or  Roselandg." 
And  the  old  lady  supped  her  tea  and  ate  her 
waffles  with  a  serene,  happy  face,  now  and  then 


BLSIE'8  WOMANHOOD,  Vt 

)i$itQ(L  up  by  a  pleased  smile  which  her  attendant 
handmaiden  was  at  a  loss  to  interpret. 

Haying  finished  her  meal,  Mrs.  Tra villa  threw 
a  shawl  about  her  shoulders  and  stepped  out  upon 
the  veranda ;  then,  tempted  by  the  beauty  of  the 
night,  walked  down  the  avenue  to  meet  her  son 
or  see  if  there  were  any  signs  of  his  approach. 

She  had  not  gone  half  the  distance  ere  the 
sound  of  horses'  hoofs  reached  her  ear — distant 
at  first  but  coming  rapidly  nearer,  till  a  lady  and 
gentleman  drew  rein  at  the  gate,  while  the  ser- 
vant who  had  been  riding  in  the  rear  dismounted 
and  threw  it  open. 

They  came  dashing  up,  but  paused  and  drew 
rein  again  at  sight  of  the  old  lady  standing  there 
under  the  trees. 

"Mother,"  cried  her  son,  springing  from  the 
saddle,  "  you  were  not  alarmed  ?  anxious  ? 
surely." 

"  No,  no,  Edward,  but  glad  to  see  you  ;  and 
Elsie  !  my  dear  child,  this  is  very  kind." 

"  Not  at  all,  dear  Mrs.  Travilla  ;  it  is  so  lovely 
an  evening  for  a  ride  ;  or  walk  either,"  she  added, 
giving  her  hand  to  her  escort  and  springing 
lightly  to  the  ground. 

Mr.  Travilla  put  the  hand  into  that  of  his 
mother.  "  Take  her  to  your  heart,  mother  ;  she 
is  mine — ours  I "  he  said,  in  low  tone3  tremulous 
with  joy. 

The  old  lady  folded  the  slight  girlish  form  to 


18  KL81R%8  WOMANHOOD. 

her  breast  for  a  moment,  with  a  silence  more  elo- 
quent than  words. 

"Thank  God!  thanxGodl"  she  murmured 
at  length.  "  He  has  given  me  my  heart's  desire ; n 
and  mingled  caresses  and  tears  fell  upon  Elsie's 
face.  "  For  many  years  I  have  loyed  you  as  my 
own  child,  and  now  I  am  to  have  you.  How  bright 
our  home  will  be,  Edward.  But  we  are  darken- 
ing another.     Her  father  ;  can  he — has  he — " 

"  He  has  given  her  to  me/*'  answered  the  son 
quickly ;  "  and  she  has — we  have  given  ourselvet 
to  each  other.  Let  me  give  an  arm  to  each  ox 
you  and  we  will  go  into  the  house." 

The  veranda  at  the  Oaks  was  deserted,  and 
the  house  very  quiet,  though  lights  still  shone 
here  and  there,  as  Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie  rode  up 
and  dismounted  on  their  return  from  Ion. 

A  servant  rose  from  the  grass,  where  he  had 
been  lying  at  his  ease  ;  came  forward  and  led  away 
his  young  mistress's  pony,  while  the  lover  bade 
her  a  tender  good-night,  sprang  into  the  saddle 
again,  and  presently  disappeared,  lost  to  view 
amid  the  trees  and  the  windings  of  the  road, 
though  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  still  came 
faintly  to  Elsie's  ear  as  she  stood  intently  listen- 
ing, a  sweet  smile  irradiating  every  feature. 

Absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  and  in  the 
effort  to  catch  those  fast-retreating  sounds,  she 
iid  not  hear  a  step  approaching  from  behind; 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  IS 

bat  an  arm  encircled  her  waist,  and  a  low- 
breathed  "My  darling"  woke  her  from  her 
reverie. 

She  looked  up,  her  eyes  beaming  with  affec- 
tion ;  "  Papa  !  I  am  rather  late,  am  I  net  ?" 

"  Not  yery.  Hark  !  the  clock  is  but  just 
striking  ten.  Come,  let  us  sit  down  here  for  a 
little.  We  have  hardly  had  a  chat  together  to- 
day." He  sighed  slightly  as  he  drew  her  closer 
to  him. 

"  No,  papa  dear,  there  has  been  so  much 
company,"  she  answered,  laying  her  head  on  his 
shoulder.     "  And—" 

"And  what?"  as  she  paused.  "Youi 
father  used  to  know  all  that  concerned  you  one 
way  or  the  other.  Is  he  to  be  shut  out  from 
your  confidence  now  ?  Ah,  I  think  he  musi 
have  been  for  some  time  past." 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  that,  papa,"  she  mur- 
mured, blushing  visibly  in  the  moonlight 
"  Indeed,  I  hardly  knew  it  myself  till—" 

"Till  when?" 

"The  night  of  Sophie's  wedding." 

"Ah!"  he  said,  musingly;  "but  I  cannot 
get  over  my  surprise  ;  he  is  your  senior  by  so 
many  years,  and  you  have  known  him  from 
childhood  and  looked  upon  him  as  a  sort  of 
uncle.     I  wonder  at  your  choice." 

"  But  you  don't  object,  papa  ?" 

"No,  if  I  must  give  you  away — and  I've 


20  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

always  known  that  would  come  some  time— I 
would  rather  it  should  be  to  him  than  anyone 
else,  for  I  ean  never  doubt  that  he  will  be  tendeT 
and  true  to  my  precious  one,  when  Bhe  leaves 
her  father's  home  for  his." 

"  Papa,  papa,  don't  speak  of  it,"  she  cried, 
winding  her  arms  about  his  neck,  "  I  can't  bear 
to  think  of  it ;  that  our  home  will  no  longer  be 
the  same,  that  I  can't  come  to  you  every  night 
and  be  folded  to  your  heart  as  I  have  been  ever 
since  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"  Well,  dearest,"  he  said,  after  a  moment,  in 
which  he  held  her  very  close  and  caressed  her 
with  exceeding  tenderness,  "  we  shall  not  be  far 
apart  or  miss  passing  some  time  together  many 
days  of  the  year.  And  you  are  not  in  haste  to 
leave  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  why  should  I  be  ?  Please 
keep  me  a  little  while  yet" 

"  I  intend  to  :  it  will  take  at  least  a  year  to 
get  used  to  the  thought  of  doing  without  you, 
and  so  long  Travilla  must  be  content  to  wait 
Nor  can  we  give  you  up  wholly  even  then  ;  your 
suite  of  rooms  shall  still  be  yours,  and  you  must 
oome  now  and  then  and  occupy  them  for  days 
or  weeks  at  a  time. 

"Now,  daughter,  good-night.  Come  to  me 
to-morrow  morning  in  my  study,  soon  after 
breakfast,  I  have  something  more  of  importance 
to  say  to  you." 


ELSIE'S  WOMAXHOO&.  21 

"  I  ghall  obey,  and  without  fear,"  she  answered 
gayly,  "  though  I  remember  once  being  quite 
frightened  at  a  similar  order  ;  but  that  was  when 
I  was  a  silly  little  girl  and  didn't  know  how 
dearly  my  own  papa  loved  me." 

"And  when  he  was  strangely  stern  to  his 
own  little  child,"  he  answered,  with  anothei 
tfcn\ler  caress. 


<%to  Spirit 


M  So  fair  that  had  you  beauty's  picture  took. 
It  must  like  her,  or  not  like  beauty  look." 

— Allbtw'b  HsaraY  VTL 

Elsie  paused  at  the  half-open  doer  of  he? 
father's  private  room. 

Mr.  Dinsmore,  like  most  men,  was  fond  of 
light  and  air ;  through  the  wide-open  windows 
the  morning  breeze  stole  softly  in,  laden  with 
sweets  from  garden  and  lawn,  and  the  rich  carpet 
of  oak  and  green  was  flecked  with  gold  where 
the  sunbeams  came  shimmering  down  between 
the  fluttering  leaves  of  a  beautiful  vine  that 
had  festooned  itself  about  the  one  looking  to 
the  east 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  seated  at  his  desk  with  a 
pile  of  papers  before  him — legal  documents  in 
appearance ;  he  would  open  one,  glance  over  its 
contents,  lay  it  aside,  and  take  up  another  only 
to  treat  it  in  like  manner. 

Elsie  stood  but  a  moment  watching  him  with 
loving,  admiring  eyes,  then  gliding  noiselessly 
across  the  floor,  dropped  gracefully  at  his  feet 


ELSXE'8  WOMANHOOD.  2£ 

and  laying  her  folded  hands  upon  his  knee  loo&ed 
up  into  his  face  with  an  arch,  sweet  smile. 

"  Mon  pere,  I  have  come  for  my  lecture,  o? 
whatever  you  have  laid  up  in  store  for  me,"  she 
announced  with  mock  gravity  and  a  slight  trem- 
ble of  pretended  fear  in  her  voice. 

Dropping  the  paper  he  held,  and  passing  one 
hand  caressingly  over  her  shining  hair,  "My 
darling,  how  very,  very  lovely  you  are  ! "  he  said, 
the  words  bursting  spontaneously  from  his  lips  ; 
"  there  is  no  flaw  in  your  beauty,  and  your  face 
beams  with  happiness." 

"  Papa  turned  flatterer ! "  she  cried,  spring- 
ing up  and  allowing  him  to  draw  her  to  his 
knee. 

"  Fm  waiting  for  the  lecture,"  she  said  pre- 
sently, "  you  know  I  always  like  to  have  disagree- 
able things  over  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Who  told  you  there  was  to  be  a  lecture  ?  " 

"Nobody,  sir." 

"What  have  you  been  doing  that  you  feel 
entitles  you  to  one  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember." 

"Nor  I  either.  So  let  us  to  business.  Here, 
take  this  chair  beside  me.  Do  you  know  how 
much  you  are  worth  ?  " 

"  Not  precisely,  sir,"  she  answered  demurely, 
taking  the  chair  and  folding  her  hands  pensively 
in  her  lap  ;  "  but  very  little,  I  presume,  since  yos 
have  given  me  away  for  nothing." 


U  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  By  no  means,"  tie  said,  with  a  slight  smile 
of  amusement  at  her  unwonted  mood.  "  It  was 
for  your  own  happiness,  which  is  no  trifle  in  my 
esteem.     But  you  belong  to  me  still." 

She  looked  at  him  with  glistening  eyes. 
"  Thank  you,  dearest  papa ;  yes,  I  do  belong  to 
you  and  always  shall.  Please  excuse  my  wilful 
misunderstanding  of  your  query.  I  do  not  know 
how  much  money  and  other  property  I  own,  but 
nave  an  idea  it  is  a  million  more  or  less." 

"  My  dear  child  ! — it  is  fully  three  times  that." 

"Papa!  is  it  indeed?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  about  a  million  at  the  time  of 
your  Grandfather  Grayson's  death,  and  has  in- 
creased very  much  during  your  mamma's  minority 
and  yours  ;  which  you  know  has  been  a  very  long 
one.  You  own  several  stores  and  a  dwelling 
house  in  New  Orleans,  a  fine  plantation  with 
between  two  and  three  hundred  negroes,  and  I 
have  invested  largely  for  you  in  stocks  of  various 
kinds  both  in  your  own  country  and  in  England. 
I  wish  you  to  examine  all  the  papers,  certificates 
of  stock,  bonds,  deeds,  mortgages,  and  so  forth." 

"  Oh,  papa  !  "  she  cried,  lifting  her  hands  in 
dismay,  "  what  a  task.  Please  excuse  me.  You 
know  all  about  it,  and  is  not  that  sufficient  ?  " 

"  No,  the  property  is  yours  ;  I  have  been 
only  your  steward,  and  must  now  render  up  an 
account  to  you  for  the  way  in  which  I  have 
handled  your  property." 


SUSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  25 

**  You  render  an  account  to  me,  my  own  dear 
father,"  she  said  low  and  tremulously,  while  her 
face  flushed  crimson  ;  "I  cannot  bear  to  hear 
you  speak  so.  1  am  fully  satisfied,  and  very,  very 
thankful  for  all  your  kind  care  of  it  and  of  me." 

He  regarded  her  with  a  smile  of  mingled 
tenderness  and  amusement,  while  softly  patting 
and  stroking  the  small  white  hand  laid  lovingly 
upon  his. 

"  Could  I — could  any  father — do  less  for  his 
own  beloved  child  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  you,  I  know,  papa,  But  may  I  ask  you 
a  question  ?  " 

"  As  many  as  you  like." 

"  How  much  are  you  worth  ?  Ah  !  you  needn't 
look  so  quizzical.  I  mean  how  much  do  you  own 
in  money,  land,  etc." 

"  Something  less  than  a  million ;  I  cannot 
tell  you  tne  exact  number  of  dollars  and  cents." 

"  Hardly  a  third  as  much  as  I  !  It  doesn't 
seem  right.     Papa,  take  half  of  mine." 

"  That  wouldn't  balance  the  scales  either," 
he  said  laughingly  ;  "  and  besides,  Mr.  Trayiila 
has  now  some  right  to  be  consulted." 

"  Papa,  I  could  never  love  him  again,  if  he 
should  object  to  my  giving  you  all  but  a  few 
hundred  thousands." 

"  He  would  not.  He  says  he  will  never  touch 
a  cent  of  your  property ;  it  must  be  settled 
entirely  upon  yourself,  and  subject  to  your 
2 


86  ELSIES  WOMANHOOD. 

control.  And  that  is  quite  right ;  for  he,  too,  is 
wealthy." 

"Papa,  I  don't  think  I  deserve  bo  much;  I 
don't  want  the  care  of  so  much.  I  do  wish  yon 
would  be  so  good  as  to  take  half  for  your  own, 
and  continue  to  manage  the  other  half  for  me  as 
you  think  best." 

"  What  you  deserve  is  not;  the  question  just 
now.  This  is  one  of  the  talents  which  G-od  has 
given  you,  and  I  think  you  ought,  at  least  for 
the  present,  to  keep  the  principal  and  decide  for 
yourself  what  shall  be  done  with  the  interest. 
You  are  old  enough  now  to  do  so,  and  I  hope  do 
not  wish  to  shirk  the  responsibility,  sinew  iiod,  in 
his  good  providence,  has  laid  it  upon  you," 

He  spoke  very  gravely  and  Elsie's  face  re- 
flected the  expression  of  his. 

"  No,  I  do  not  wish  it  now,  papa,"  she  said, 
in  a  low,  sweet  voice.  "  I  will  undertake  it,  ask- 
ing Him  for  wisdom  and  grace  to  do  it  aright" 

They  were  busy  for  the  next  hour  or  two 
over  the  papers. 

"There  I"  cried  Elsie,  at  length,  "we  havo 
examined  the  last  one,  and  I  think  I  understand 
it  all  pretty  thoroughly." 

"  I  think  you  do.  And  now  another  thing  ; 
ought  you  not  to  go  and  see  for  yourself  your 
property  in  Louisiana  ?  " 

Elsie  assented,  on  condition  that  he  would 
take  her. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  %? 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  child,  can  you  suppose 
1  would  ever  think  of  permitting  you  to  go 
alone  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  papa.  And  if  poor  mammy 
objecte  this  time,  she  may  take  her  choice  of 
going  or  staying  ;  but  go  I  must,  and  see  how  my 
poor  people  are  faring  at  Viamede.  I  have  dim, 
dreamy  recollections  of  it  as  a  kind  of  earthly 
paradise.  Papa,  do  you  know  why  mammy  has 
always  been  so  distressed  whenever  I  talked  o! 
going  there  ?  " 

"  Painful  associations,  no  doubt  Poor  crea- 
ture !  it  was  there  her  husband — an  unruly  negro 
belonging  to  a  neighboring  planter — was  sold 
away  from  her,  and  there  she  lost  her  children, 
one  by  accidental  drowning,  the  others  by  some 
epidemic  disease.  Your  own  mother,  too,  died 
there,  and  Chloe  I  think  never  loved  on©  of  her 
own  children  better." 

"  No,  I'm  sure  not.  But  she  never  told  me 
of  her  husband  and  children,  and  I  thought  she 
had  never  had  any.  And  now,  papa,  that  we 
are  done  with  business  for  the  present,  I  have  a 
request  to  make." 

"  Well,  daughter,  what  is  it?" 

"That  you  will  permit  me  to  renew  my  old 
intimacy  with  Lucy  Carrington  ;  or  at  least  to 
call  on  her.  You  remember  she  was  not  well 
enough  to  be  at  the  wedding  ;  she  is  here  at 
Ashlands  with  her  baby.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carring- 


28  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

ton  called  here  yesterday  while  yon  were  out, 
and  both  urged  me  not  to  be  ceremonious  with 
Lucy,  as  she  is  hardly  well  enough  to  make  calls 
and  is  longing  to  see  me." 

"And  what  answer  did  you  give  them  ?"  he 
asked  with  some  curiosity. 

"  That  I  should  do  so  if  possible  ;  that  meant 
if  I  could  obtain  your  permission,  papa." 

"  You  have  it.  Lucy  is  in  some  sort  taken 
into  the  family  now,  and  you  are  safely  engaged  ; 
to  say  nothing  of  your  mature  years,"  he  added 
laughingly,  as  she  seated  herself  on  his  knee 
again  and  thanked  him  with  a  hug  and  kiss. 

"  You  dear  good  papa  1 " 

"  Some  girls  of  your  age,  heiresses  in  their 
own  right,  would  merely  have  said,  ( I'm  going,' 
never  asking  permission." 

"Ah,  but  I  like  to  be  ruled  by  you.  So 
please  don't  give  it  up.     Now  *ibout  Enna  ?  " 

"If  I  had  any  authority  in  the  matter,  I 
should  say,  you  shall  not  give  her  a  cent.  She 
doesn't  deserve  it  from  you  or  any  one." 

"Then  I  shall  wait  till  you  change  your 
mind." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head.  "  Ah  !  my 
little  girl,  you  don't  realize  how  much  some  one 
else's  opinions  will  soon  weigh  with  you,"  he 
answered,  putting  an  arm  about  her  and  looking 
with  fatherly  delight  into  the  sweet  face. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  %% 

"  Ah,  papa  !  "  she  cried,  laying  her  cheek  to 
his,  "  please  don't  talk  so  ;  it  hurts  me." 

"  Then,  dearest,  I  shall  not  say  it  again  . 
though  indeed  I  was  not  reproaching  you ;  it  is 
right,  very  right,  that  husband  and  wife  should 
be  more  than  all  the  world  beside  to  each  other." 

Elsie's  cheek  crimsoned  "  It  has  not  come 
to  that  yet,  father  dear,"  she  murmured,  half 
averting  her  blushing  face;  "  and — I  don't  know 
which  of  you  I  love  best — or  how  I  could  eyer  do 
without  either  :  the  love  differs  in  kind  rather 
than  in  degree." 

He  drew  her  closer.  "  Thank  you,  my  dar- 
ling ;  what  more  could  I  ask  or  desire  ? "  A 
slight  tap  on  the  door  and  Mrs.  Dinsmore 
looked  in.  "Any  admittance?"  she  asked 
playfully. 

"  Always  to  my  wife,"  answered  her  husband, 
releasing  Elsie  and  rising  to  hand  Rose  a  chair. 

"  Thanks,  my  dear,  but  I  havn't  time  to  sit 
down,"  she  said.  "Here  is  a  note  of  invitation 
for  ub  all  to  spend  the  day  at  Rowlands.  Shall 
we  go  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  it  suits  you,  Rose,"  replied  Mr. 
Dinsmore  ;  "  and  Elsie ;"  he  added,  "  will  you 
go,     daughter  ?" 

"  If  you  wish  it,  papa,"  she  answered  cheer- 
fully; yet  there  was  a  slight  reluctance  in  hei 
tone. 

He  gave  her  a  kind,  fond  look.     "  You  are 


40  ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

your  own  mistress,  and  con  accept  or  decline  m 
your  judgment  and  wishes  dictate. " 

"  But  you  would  rather  have  me  go,  papa  ?" 

"  I  would,  because  it  would  seem  more  kind 
and  courteous.  But  what  is  the  objection  in 
jour  mind  ?    Perhaps  it  could  be  removed." 

"  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  Lucy  this  morn- 
ing," Elsie  answered  with  a  blush  ;  "  but  to-mor- 
row will  do." 

"  But  both  might  be  accomplished  if  mamma 
and  Adelaide  like  to  have  Caesar  drive  them  and 
the  little  ones  over  to  Roselands.  Then  you 
and  I  will  mount  our  horses  and  away  to  Ash- 
lands  for  a  call,  leaving  there  in  good  time 
to  join  the  dinner  party  at  Roselands.  How  will 
that  do?" 

"  Oh,  bravely,  you  dear  darling  papa  !  always 
contriving  for  my  enjoyment." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  followed  his  wife  from  the 
room.  "  'Twill  be  an  early  return  of  Carrington's 
call,"  he  said,  "  but  I  have  a  little  business  with 
him?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  very  glad  :  it  is  a  good  plan  ;  but 
don't  hurry  Elsie  away.  She  and  Lacy  will 
want  a  long  talk." 

"  I  promise  to  be  careful  to  obey  orders,  *  he 
answered,  sportively.     "  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  only  see  that  you  don't  stay  too  long, 
*nd  keep  the  dinner  waiting  at  Roselands." 

"  Mamma,"  asked  Elsie,  bringing  up  the  rear 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  31 

as  they  entered  the  sitting-room,  "  can't  you  go, 
too — you  and  Aunt  Adelaide  ?  Four  make  ag 
nice  a  party  as  two,  and  the  babies  can  be  driven 
over  quite  safely,  with  their  mammies,  to  take 
care  of  them." 

"  No,"  said  Rose,  "  I  never  accept  such  late 
invitations  ;  I  shall — " 

" My  dear,"  said  her  husband,  "we  would  be 
very  glad," 

"  No,  no ;  the  first  arrangement  is  decidedly 
the  best ; "  putting  on  an  air  of  pretended  pique. 

"  Babies  !  do  you  call  me  a  baby  ? "  cried 
young  Horace,  who  had  sprung  to  his  feet  with 
a  flash  of  indignation  in  his  great  black  eyes , 
"I'm  nine  years  old,  Elsie.  Rosie  there's  the 
only  baby  belonging  to  this  house.  Do  you  think 
papa  would  let  a  baby  have  a  pony  like  Gip  ?  and 
a  pistol  of  his  own,  too  ?  " 

Elsie  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  gave 
him  a  kiss,  "  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons." 

"  Elsie,  my  daughter,  don't  allow  yourself  to 
speak  so  extravagantly,"  interrupted  her  father. 

"I  will  try  not,  papa,"  she  answered.  "I 
beg  your  pardon,  Horace  dear,  and  assure  you  I 
tiiink  you  are  quite  a  manly  young  man.  Now 
I  must  prepare  for  my  ride,  papa.  I  shall  be 
ready  by  the  time  the  horses  can  be  brought 
to  the  door." 

"  Papa,"  said  Horace,  as  the  door  closed  upon 
ferfj  sister,  "  may  I  ride  Gip  to-day  ?  " 


9»  JSLSUS'd  WOMANHOOD. 

"  If  you  promise  me  to  keep  close  bead©  th$ 
carriage." 

"  Oh,  papa,  can't  I  ride  on  ahead  a  little,  now 
and  then,  or  fall  a  few  paces  behind  if  I  wish  ?  ° 

"  No ;  yon  may  do  just  what  I  have  gi7es 
pennifision  for,  and  nothing  else." 


CJapte  jfrarijj. 


"Sraca  was  In  all  lier  steps,  hearen  in  her  sys, 
la  ST'rr  gesture,  dignity  and  lore," 

—Miltob's  Paba^isb  Loss, 


"But,  Elsie,  what  of  Mr.  Travail  a  ?"  asked 
her  father,  as  he  handed  her  into  the  saddle. 

"  He  will  not  be  here  till  evening,  sir,"  ehc 
answered,  the  rose  on  her  cheek  deepening 
slightly. 

"  Then  I  can  have  undisturbed  possession  for 
to-day  at  least,"  replied  Mr.  Dinsmore,  mount- 
ing. "  We  couldn't  have  a  loTelie?  day  for  a 
ride." 

"  Nor  better  company,"  added  Elsie,  archly, 
keeping  her  horse's  head  on  a  line  with  that  of 
her  father's  larger  steed,  as  they  followed  the 
winding  carriage  road  at  a  brisk  canter. 

"  Why,  you  conceited  little  puss  ?  "  returned 
Mr.  Dinsmore  laughing. 

Elsie  blushed  more  deeply  this  time.    "  Why, 
papa,  you  are  the  company  to-day,  are  you  not  f 
I  wished  to  go,  and  you  kindly  arranged  to  ac- 
company me." 
2* 


S4  ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Ah !  and  that  is  how  you  look  at  it  ?  Well* 
I  recall  my  rebuke,  and  thank  you  for  your — what 
shall  I  say — pretty  compliment,  or  appreciation 
of  my  society  ?  " 

et  Both,  if  you  like.  Oh,  how  nice  it  is  to  be. 
at  home  again  in  our  own  dear  native  land." 

"  And  what  do  you  call  your  own  dear  native 
land?" 

"  What  a  strange  question,  papa  !  The  great, 
grand  old  Union  to  be  sure — North  and  South, 
East  and  West — is  it  not  all  mine  ?  Have  you 
not  taught  ms  so  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  musingly. 

They  rode  on  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  and 
when  he  spoke  again,  it  was  upon  a  subject 
entirely  foreign  to  the  last 

"  The  place  looks  natural,"  he  remarked,  as 
they  turned  into  the  avenue  leading  to  the  fine 
old  dwelling  of  the  Carringtons. 

"  How  kind,  how  very  kind,  to  come  so 
Boon ! "  was  Mrs.  Oarrington's  cordial,  joyful 
salutation.  "  Mr.  Dinsmore,  I  owe  you  a  thou- 
sand thanks  for  not  only  permitting  your  daugh- 
ter to  come,  but  bringing  her  yourself." 

"You  are  very  welcome,  my  dear  madam," 
he  answered  courteously  ;  "  and,  indeed,  I  should 
like  to  see  Mrs,  Rose  myself,  when  she  is  well 
enough  and  feels  that  it  will  be  agreeable  to 
her," 

A  few  moments'  chat  ia  the  drawing-room, 


BLSIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  35 

tnd  Mf.  Dinsmore  drew  out  his  watch,  "  How 
long  a  talk  do  yon  want  with  your  friend  to-day, 
Elsie  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  jnst  as  long  as  I  can  be  allowed^ 
papa  ! "  she  cried,  with  mnch  of  the  old  childish 
eagerness, 

"Then  the  sooner  you  begin,  the  better,  I 
think,  for  we  onght  to  be  on  our  way  to  Rose- 
lands  in  an  hour,  or  an  hour  and  a  quarter  at  the 
farthest." 

Upon  thai  ilie  gentlemen  retired  to  the  library 
to  talk  over  business  matters,  and  Mrs.  Carring- 
ton  led  the  way  for  Elsie  to  Lucy's  room.  But 
pausing  in  the  upper  hall,  she  took  the  young 
girl  in  her  arms,  folding  her  in  a  close,  loving 
embrace,  and  heaping  upon  her  tearful,  tender, 
silent  caresses. 

"  My  poor  boy  !  my  poor  dear  Herbert, "  she 
murmured  at  length,  as  she  released  her  hold. 
"Darling,  I  can  neyer  forget  that  you  might 
have  been  my  daughter.  But  there — I  will  leave 
you.  Lucy  occupies  her  old  rooms,  and  yonder 
is  her  door  ;  you  know  the  way." 

"But  come  in  with  me,  dear  Mrs.  Carring- 
tou,"  urged  Elsie,  the  tear3  shining  in  her  eyes, 

"  No,  dear,  not  just  yet  Lucy  would  prefer 
tc  see  you  quite  alone  at  first,  I  know."  And 
she  glided  away  in  the  opposite  direction, 

A  soft,  cooing  sound  came  to  Elsic'i  ear5 
mingled  with  fondling  words,  in  a  negro  voioe. 


36  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

as  she  stood  an  Instant  waiting  admittance. 
Lucy,  a  good  deal  paler  and  thinner  than  the 
Lucy  of  old,  lay  back  in  an  easy  chair,  languidly 
turning  the  leaves  of  a  new  magazine. 

"Open  the  door,  mammy,"  she  said,  "I 
thought  I  heard  a  rap."  Then  at  sight  of  Elsie, 
the  magazine  was  hastily  tossed  aside,  and  with 
a  cry  of  joy,  "  Oh,  you  darling  !  I  thought  I'd 
never  see  you  again,"  she  sprang  forward,  caught 
her  friend  in  a  close  embrace,  and  wept  upon 
her  neck. 

Elsie  soothed  her  with  caresses  and  words  of 
endearment,  and  presently  =he  calmed  down, 
made  her  friend  take  a  seat,  and  sinking  back 
into  her  own,  wiped  away  the  tears  still  welling 
up  in  her  eyes,  and  with  a  little  hysterical  laugh, 
said,  "  Please  don't  look  so  concerned,  or  think 
I'm  unhappy  with  my  dear  old  Phil,  or  going  to 
die,  or  any  such  nonsense  :  it's  just  my  nerves  ; 
hateful,  torturing  things !  I  wish  I'd  never 
found  out  I  had  any." 

"  You  poor  dear,  I'm  so  sorry  for  your  lost 
health,"  said  Elsie,  exchanging  her  chair  for  a 
low  ottoman  at  Lucy's  feet,  and  taking  the  small 
thin  hands  in  hers,  stroking  and  patting  them 
caressingly ;  "  I  know  nerves  won't  be  reasoned 
with,  and  that  tears  are  often  a  great  relief." 

"  And  I've  everything  to  make  me  happy," 
sobbed  Lucy —  "  the  best  husband  in  the  world, 
and  the  darlingest  of  babies,  to  say  nothing  of 


BLBIE'B  WOMANHOOD.  37 

mamma  and  papa,  and  the  rest,  and  really  almost 
everything  one  could  desire." 

"  Oh,  the  baby,  yes  1 "  cried  Elsie,  turning 
toward  it  with  eager  interest ;  "the  sweet  protty 
darling.     May  I  take  him  a  moment,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  he's  not  too  heavy — bring  him 
here,  mammy.  I  remember  your  father  would 
not  allow  you  to  lift  or  carry  b'ttle  Horace," 

"Ah,  but  that  was  years  ago !  Ah,  how 
lovely  he  is  ! "  as  the  babe  accepted  her  mute 
invitation  to  come  to  her.  "You  aie  rich 
indeed,  with  this  treasure  added  to  all  your 
others.  And  you  and  your  Phil  don't  quarrel 
yet?" 

"No  indeed!  not  the  first  cross  word  yet. 
Mamma  calls  us  her  turtle-doves :  says  we're 
always  billing  and  cooing.  Ah,  Elsie,  how 
beautiful  you  are  !  I've  always  thought  you  just 
as  lovely  as  possible,  yet  there's  an  added  some- 
thing— I  can't  divine  what— that  increases  even 
your  peerless  attractions." 

"0  Lucy,  Lucy,  still  a  flatterer!"  laughed 
her  friend. 

"  Yet  you've  come  back  to  us  single,"  Lucy 
went  on,  ignoring  the  interruption,  "  though  we 
all  know  you  had  ever  so  many  good  offers. 
Pray,  do  you  intend  to  remain  single  all  your 
days  ?  " 

At  that,  Elsie's  face  dimpled  all  over  witk 
blushes  and  smiles. 


S8  fiLSlE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Luoy  signed  to  *te  nurse  to  take  the  bab©| 
and  as  the  woman  walked  away  with  it  in  her 
arms,  turned  eagerly  to  her  friend. 

"  Now  do  tell  me  ;  for  I'm  sure  you  are  not 
going  to  live  single.  Shall  we  have  the  pleasure 
of  hailing  you  as  duchess  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  Lucy ;  I  intend  to  marry ;  am  actually 
engaged,  but  not  to  a  foreigner. " 

"  Dear  me  I  I  don't  believe  I  could  have 
resisted  the  title.  That  is,"  she  added,  hastily, 
"  if  Fd  been  heart-whole  like  you  :  but  after 
seeing  my  Phil,  of  course  I  wouldn't  give  him 
up  for  all  the  nobles  in  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa. 
But  do  tell  me  who  is  the  fortunate  man  ?  " 

"Suppose  you  try  your  skill  at  guessing." 

"  Perfectly  useless,  never  had  any.  It  must 
be  somebody  I  don't  know." 

"  My  good  little  woman,  you  know  him  well/ 

"Either  of  Harry's  brothers-in-law  ?  Rich- 
ard ?  Harold?" 

"  No,  no,  no ;  you  are  wide  of  the  mark ! 
Oould  you  suppose  papa  would  ever  consent  to 
such  a  mixture  of  relationships  ?  Why,  it  would 
make  papa  my  brother  and  mamma's  brother 
her  son-in-law." 

u  So  it  would.  Well,  I  give  it  up  and  beg  of 
you  to  put  a  speedy  end  to  my  suspense." 

Lucy  bent  her  head  to  listen,  and  Elaie  mur- 
mured the  name  low  and  softly,  the  rose  deepen- 
ing on  her  cheek  as  she  spoke.     For  a  moment 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  30 

Lucy  seemed  struck  dumb  with  astonishment, 
Then,  "  Elsie  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  can't  believ© 
it;  you  are  only  jesting." 

Elsie  shook  her  head  with  a  low,  musical, 
happy  laugh. 

"  He's  splendid,  I  don't  deny  that ;  but  then 
— only  think — your  father's  most  intimate  friend 
from  boyhood  up  ;  and  almost  as  old." 

"Some  people  seem  like  wine — to  improve 
with  age.  But  Mr.  Travilla  is  not  old  to  me 
now.  He  has  been  standing  still,  I  believe,  while 
I  have  grown  up  to  him." 

"  And  you  really  are  in  love  with  him  ?" 

"  He  has  all  my  heart,  all  the  love  I  could 
give  to  any  one,  and  I  respect,  honor,  and  trust 
him  as  I  do  no  one  else  but  my  father." 

"  And  that  reminds  me ;  I  was  so  afraid 
your  father  would  not  let  you  come  to  see  me. 
But — you  are  your  own  mistress  now,  of  course. " 

"  Papa  tells  me  so  sometimes,"  laughed  Elsie, 
"  and  yet  I  know  he  would  be  greatly  surprised 
should  I  take  the  liberty  of  doing  anything  he 
would  not  approve.  I  asked  his  permission  to 
come,  and  he  not  only  % ave  consent  but  brought 
me  himself." 

•'That  was  good  in  him;  but  I  hope  he 
wont  hurry  you  away.  I  want  to  hear  about 
your  European  conquests,  and  have  ever  so  much 
to  say  besides." 

"  No,  he  has  kindly  promised  me  time  for  3 


40  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

long  talk.     Besides,  I  can  ride  over  any  day  and 
supplement  it  with  another." 

if  r.  Dinsmore  was  as  good  as  his  word  ;  their 
shat,  had  lasted  more  than  an  hour  when  ni* 
summons  came,  yet  Lucy  declared  it  had  not 
been  half  long  enough,  and  would  not  be  satis- 
fied to  let  Elsie  go  without  a  promise  to  come 
again  very  soon. 

"  Roselands,  too,  looks  very  natural,  and  very 
homelike,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  as  they  rode 
up  its  avenue. 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  and  yet,  do  you  know,  it  seems 
to  me  it  has  grown  smaller  and  less  grand  since 
I  lived  here  as  a  child." 

"  Ah  !  did  you  think  it  very  grand  then 
daughter  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  her  with  a  smile. 

"I  believe  so,  papa;  but  it  is  beautiful  yet, 
even  after  all  the  fine  places  we  nave  Eeen  in  out 
own  country  and  Europe." 

Adelaide  met  them  at  the  door.  "  Just  in 
time,"  she  said,  "for  there  is  the  diessing-belL 
Your  own  old  room,  Elsie  dear :  you  know  the 
way  and  will  find  Aunt  Chloe  in  waiting.  Horace, 
you  will  make  yourself  at  home  of  course." 

It  was  strictly  a  family  party,  sociable  and 
informal.  Elsie  had  not  met  Arthur  since  their 
return,  and  at  the  first  moment  scarcely  recog« 
nized  him  in  the  moustached  and  bewhiskered 
foung  man  who  rose  and  came  forward,  with  I 


£L8IE'S  WOMANHOOD.  41 

slight  limp,  to  meet  her  as  she  entered  the  draw- 
ing  room. 

"How  do  yon  do  ?"  he  said,  holding  out  his 
right  hand,  while  steadying  himself  with  a  cane 
held  in  the  left  "  I  hope  you're  glad  to  get 
back  to  America  ?  " 

"  Arthur,  is  it  ?  Yes  ;  thank  you  :  and  I'm 
very  glad  your  injuries  haT8  proved  less  serious 
than  was  at  first  feared  "  she  said,  kindly  meet- 
ing his  advances  half-way. 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  replied,  with  attempted  non- 
chalance.    "  I  shall  be  all  right  by  and  by." 

Then  retreating  to  the  seat  from  which  he 
had  just  risen,  the  corner  of  a  sofa  by  the  side  of 
his  sister  Adelaide,  his  eye  following  Elsie  as  she 
crossed  the  room  to  pay  her  respects  to  her  grand- 
father and  others.  "What  on  earth  you  call 
that  girl  little  for,  I  can't  imagine,"  he  remarked 
in  an  undertone ;  fi  why  she's  quite  above  the 
average  height ;  graceful  as  a  young  fawn,  too  ; 
splendid  figure,  and  actually  the  most  beautiful 
face  I  ever  saw.  I  don't  wonder  she  turned  the 
heads  of  lords  and  dukes  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water.     But  what  do  you  call  her  little  for  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,  Art ;  with  me  if  s  a  term  of 
endearment  more  than  anything  else,  I  believe," 
replied  his  sister  ;  "  but  there  is  something  in  the 
expression  of  her  face — something  that  has  always 
oeen  there,  a  sweet  simplicity  and  innocence— 
that  moves  one  to  a  sort  of  protecting  love  as  tt 


*8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

a  little  one  who  has  not  yet  attained  sufficient 
worldly  wisdom  to  take  care  of  l^rsell" 

Old  Mr.  Dinsmore  greeted  his  lovely  grand- 
daughter almost  affectionately,  holding  her  hand 
in  his  for  a  moment,  and  looking  from  her  to  her 
father.  "  Really,  she's  a  girl  to  be  proud  of, 
Horace," he  said  with  a  paternal  smile.  "Bat 
Pve  no  need  to  tell  you  that." 

"No,  she  is  not  bad  looking,"  observed  his 
wife  with  a  slight  sneer  ;  "  few  girls  would  be  in 
such  elegant  attire ;  but  it  surprises  me  to  see 
that,  with  all  her  advantages  and  opportunities 
for  improvement,  she  has  not  yet  lost  that  baby 
expression  she  alwaye  had.  She'll  never  be  half 
the  woman  Enna  is." 

The  days  were  past  in  which  the  lady  mother 
had  gloried  in  the  fact  that  anywhere  Enna 
would  have  been  taken  for  the  elder  of  the  two  ; 
and  now  the  contrast  between  her  faded,  fretful 
face  and  Elsie's  fresh  bloom  was  a  sore  trial  to 
madam's  love,  and  pride  in  her  household  pet 

But  no  one  deemed  it  necessary  to  reply  to 
the  unpleasant  remark.  Elsie  only  smiled  up 
into  her  father's  face  as  he  came  forward  and 
stood  at  her  side,  and  meeting  his  look  of  loving 
content  and  pride  in  her,  just  as  she  was,  and 
calling  to  mind  how  fully  satisfied  with  her 
was  another,  whose  loving  approbation  was  no 
leas  precious,  turned  away  with  a  half-breathed 
iigh  of  heart-felt  happiness,  finished  her  greet- 


SL8JJSl8  W0MA2TH00D.  4B 

ingg,  and,  the  dinner-bell  ringing  at  that  mo- 
ment,  accepted  "Walter's  offered  arm  to  the  din- 
ing-room. 

Arthur  was  more  and  more  charmed  with  his 
niece  as  he  noted  the  modest  ease  and  grace  of 
her  manners,  both  at  the  table,  and  afterward  in 
the  drawing-room  ;  listened  to  her  music — greatly 
improved  under  the  instructions  of  some  of  the 
first  masters  of  Europe — and  her  conversation 
with  his  father  and  others,  in  which  she  almost 
unconsciously  revealed  rioh  stores  of  varied  in- 
formation gathered  from  books,  the  discourse 
of  the  wise  and  learned  met  in  her  travels, 
and  her  own  keen  yet  kindly  observations  of  men 
and  things.  These,  with  the  elegance  of  her  dic- 
tion, and  the  ready  play  of  wit  and  fancy,  made 
her  a  fascinating  talker. 

Contrary  to  Elsie's  expectations,  it  was  decided 
by  the  elders  of  the  party  that  all  should  remain 
to  tea. 

As  the  others  returned  to  the  drawing-room 
on  leaving  the  table,  she  stole  out  upon  the 
moonlighted  veranda.  Gazing  wistfully  down 
the  avenue,  was  she  thinking  of  one  probably 
even  then  on  his  way  to  the  Oaks — thinking  of 
him  and  his  disappointment  at  not  finding  her 
there? 

"  Ifg  a  nice  night,  this,"  remarked  Arthur*! 
voice  at  her  side,  "  I  say,  Elsie,  suppose  we  bury 
the  hatchet,  you  and  I  " 


14  JSLSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

*  I  never  had  any  enmity  toward  yon,  A  rthar,* 
she  answered,  still  gazing  straight  before  her. 

"  Well,  it's  odd  if  you  hadn't ;  I  gave  yoi* 
cauBe  enough,  as  you  did  me  by  your  niggardb 
refusal  to  lend  me  a  small  sum,  on  occasions  when 
I  was  hard  up.  But  I'm  willing  to  let  by-gones 
be  by-gones,  if  you  are." 

"  Certainly ;  I  should  be  glad  to  forget  ali 
that  has  been  unpleasant  in  the  past" 

"You  have  improved  wonderfully  since  I 
saw  you  last :  you  were  a  pretty  girl  then,  but 
now  you  are  without  exception  the  most  superbly 
beautiful,  graceful,  accomplished,  and  intelligent 
woman  I  ever  saw." 

"  I  do  not  like  flattery,  Arthur,"  she  answered* 
turning  coldly  away. 

"  Pooh  !  the  truth's  never  flattery  ;  I  de- 
clare if  we  were  not  so  nearly  related,  I'd  marry 
you  myself." 

"  You  forget,"  she  said,  half  scornfully, 
'*  that  it  takes  two  to  make  a  bargain  ;  three  in 
this  case ;  and  two  of  us  would  never  con- 
sent." 

"  Nonsense  !  I'd  soon  manage  it  by  eleven 
courting.  A  man  can  always  get  the  woman  he 
▼ants  if  he's  only  sufficiently  determined." 

"In  that  you  are  sadly  mistaken.  But  why 
broach  so  disagreeable  a  subject,  since  we  are  so 
nearly  related  that  the  very  thought  seems  almost 
a  sin  and  a  crime  r " 


EL81E  8  WOMANHOOD  45 

"  And  so  you're  going  to  th/ow  yourself  awa| 
onoidTravilla?" 

Elsie  faced  him  with  flashing  eyes.  "  No  ;  it 
^ill  be  no  throwing  away  of  myself,  nor  will  1 
allow  him  to  be  spoken  of  in  snch  disrespectful 
terms,  in  my  presence," 

"Humph!"  laughed  Arthur.  "Well,  I've 
found  out  how  to  make  you  angry,  at  all  events. 
And  Pm  free  to  confess  1  don't  like  Travilla,  or 
forgive  him  all  old  scores." 

Elsie  scarcely  seemed  to  hear.  A  horse  was 
coming  at  a  quiet  canter  up  the  avenue.  Both 
the  steed  and  his  rider  wore  a  familiar  aspect, 
and  the  young  girl's  heart  gave  a  joyous  bound  as 
the  latter  dismounted,  throwing  the  reins  to  a 
servant,  and  came  up  the  steps  into  the  veranda. 

She  glided  toward  him  ;  there  was  an  earnest, 
tender  clasping  of  hands,  a  word  or  two  of  cor- 
dial greeting,  and  they  passed  into  the  house  and 
entered  the  drawing-room. 

"  Humph  !  not  much  sentiment  there  ;  ac* 
toward  each  other  pretty  much  as  they  always 
have,"  said  Arthur  to  himself,  taking  a  cigar 
from  his  pocket  and  lighting  it  with  a  mat./h, 
u  I  wonder  now  what's  the  attraction  to  her  foi 
an  old  codger  like  that,"  he  added,  watching  the 
smoke  as  it  curled  lazily  up  from  the  end  of  hm 
Havana. 

There  was  indeed  nothing  sentimental  in  the 
conduct  of  Mr.   Travilla  or  Elsie  :  deep,  trua, 


46  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

heartfelt  happiness  there  was  on  both  sides,  but 
calm  and  quiet,  indulging  in  little  demonstration, 
except  when  they  were  quite  alone  with  each 
other.  There  was  no  secret  made  of  the  engage 
mcnt,  and  it  was  soon  known  to  all  their  friends 
and  acquaintance.  Mr.  Tra villa  had  always  been 
in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  Oaks  daily,  and  find- 
ing himself  very  much  at  home  there ;  and  he 
continued  to  come  and  go  as  formerly,  all  wel- 
coming him  with  great  cordiality,  making  him,  if 
possible,  more  cue  of  themselves  than  ever,  while 
there  was  little  change  in  Elsie's  manner,  except 
that  all  her  late  reserve  had  fled,  and  given  place 
to  the  old  ease  and  freedom,  the  sweet,  affection- 
ate confidences  of  earlier  days. 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  determination  to  delay  the 
marriage  for  a  year  was  decidedly  a  keen  disap- 
pointment to  the  middle-aged  lover,  who  had 
already  endured  so  long  and  patient  a  waiting 
for  his  prize  ;  yet  so  thankful  and  joyous  was  he 
that  he  had  at  last  won  her  for  his  own,  that, 
finding  remonstrance  and  entreaties  alike  unavail- 
ing, he  presently  accepted  the  conditions  with  a 
very  good  grace,  comforting  himself  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  permanence  of  her  love.  Elsie  had 
do  coquettish  arts,  was  simple-hearted,  straight- 
forward, and  true,  as  in  her  childhood,  and  their 
confidence  in  each  other  was  unbounded. 


<%ter  |i% 


"  Joy  never  fea*ta  so  high 
Am  when  the  &rst  course  is  of  eiiscry.  " 

— SooixaM. 

Adelaide's  marriage  was  fixed  for  Christ- 
mas  eve,  and  Mr.  Dinemore  and  Elsie  decided  tc 
take  their  trip  to  Louisiana  at  once,  that  they 
might  be  able  to  return  in  season  for  the  wedding, 
at  which  Elsie  was  to  be  first  bridesmaid. 

It  was  Elsie  herself  who  broke  the  news  of  hei 
intended  journey  to  her  faithful  old  nurse,  ex- 
plaining why  she  felt  it  her  duty  to  go,  and 
kindly  leaving  to  Ghloe's  own  decision  whether 
she  would  accompany  her  or  not. 

The  dusky  face  grew  very  sad  for  a  moment, 
tears  springing  to  the  dark  eyes  ;  but  the  voice 
waa  almost  cheerful  as  she  answered.  "  Yes,  you'g 
right,  honey  darlin',  you's  all  right  to  go  and  see 
^bout  dem  poor  souls  and  let  em  see  dere  beaufu] 
young  missus  :  and  your  ole  mammy  H  go  long 
too,  for  she  neber  could  stay  an  let  her  chile  run 
all  dem  risks  on  de  boats  an'  cars  an*  she  no  dar 
to  take  care  ob  her." 


48  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  That's  right,  my  own  dear  old  mammj,  I 
ghall  be  glad  to  have  you  along,  and  hope  you 
will  find  it  plea8anter  than  you  expect ;  but  we 
must  trust  the  Lord  to  take  care  of  us  all ;  for 
^8  only  can  prevent  the  accidents  you  fear." 

"  Yes,  yes,  honey,  dat's  de  truff ;  an*  well 
trust  him  an'  not  be  'fraid,  'cause  don't  ho  say, 
'Not  a  hair  ob  your  head  shall  perish. '" 

" '  What  time  I  am  afraid  I  will  trust  in 
Thee,' "  murmured  Elsie,  softly.  "  Ah,  the  joy, 
the  peace,  of  knowing  that  his  presence  and  his 
love  will  ever  go  with  us  everywhere ;  and  that 
he  has  all  power  in  heaven  and  in  earth." 

A  week  later,  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  showing  his 
daughter  the  beauties  of  New  Orleans,  where 
they  had  arrived  without  accident  or  loss.  They 
remained  in  the  city  long  enough  to  attend  thor- 
oughly to  the  business  which  had  called  them 
there,  and  to  see  everything  worth  looking  at. 

Elsie's  plantation  was  in  the  Teche  country, 
the  very  loveliest  part  of  grand  old  Louisiana. 
In  order  that  suitable  preparations  might  be 
made  for  their  reception,  word  had  been  sent 
that  they  might  be  expected  on  a  certain  day. 

"  We  have  allowed  more  time  than  necessary 
for  this  place,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  to  his  dangh< 
fcer  one  evening  on  returning  to  their  hotel,  after 
seeing  the  last  of  the  lions  of  the  Orescent  City ; 
"  we  have  two  days  to  spare ;  what  shall  be  don% 
in  them  ?  " 


EZSIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  49 

"Let  us  go  on  to  Viame&e  at  once  then, 
papa,"  replied  Elsie,  promptly.  "  I  have  beea 
regretting  that  we  sent  notice  of  onr  coming.  I 
donbt  if  it  would  not  have  been  wiser  to  take 
them  by  surprise." 

"  There  would  not  be  the  same  preparations 
for  your  comf ort}"  replied  her  father,  taking  a 
seat  by  her  on  the  sofa,  for  they  were  in  their 
own  private  parlor  ;  "  you  may  find  unaired  bed- 
linen  and  an  empty  larder,  which,  beside  incon- 
veniencing yourself,  would  sorely  mortify  and 
trouble  Annt  Phillis  and  her  right-hand  woman, 
Sarah,  the  cook." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  you  should  have  an  in- 
hospitable reception,  papa,  but  fires  are  soon 
kindled  and  linen  aired,  and  is  not  the  pantry 
kept  supplied  with  canned  and  preserved  fruits  t 
and  are  there  not  fresh  fruits^  vegetables,  chick- 
ens, and  eggs  at  hand  for  immediate  use  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  and  we  are  not  likely  to 
suffer.  We  will,  then,  leave  here  to-morrow,  if 
you  wish,  taking  the  steamer  for  Berwick  Bay. 
But  why  prefer  to  come  upon  them  unex- 
pectedly ?" 

Elsie  smiled,  and  blushed  slightly.  "You 
know  I  never  have  any  concealments  from  you, 
papa,  and  I  will  be  frank  about  this,"  she  said, 
"  I  don't  think  I  am  apt  to  be  suspicious,  and 
yet  the  thought  has  come  to  me  several  times 
within  the  last  few  daya,  that  the  overseer  hag 
3 


60  ELBIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

had  every  opportunity  to  abuse  my  poor  peopls 
if  he  happens  to  be  of  a  cruel  disposition.  And 
if  he  is  ill-treating  them  I  should  like  to  catch 
H™  at,  it/'  she  added,  her  eyes  kindling,  and  the 
oolor  deepening  on  her  cheek. 

"  And  what  would  you  do  in  that  case  ? ' 
her  father  asked,  with  a  slight  smile,  drawing 
her  close  to  him  and  touching  his  lips  to  the 
blooming  cheek. 

"  Dismiss  him,  I  suppose,  papa  ;  I  don't  know 
what  else  I  could  do  to  punish  him  or  prevent 
further  cruelties.  I  should  not  like  to  shoot 
him  down,"  she  added,  laughingly ;  "  and  I 
doubt  if  I  should  have  strength  to  nog  him." 

"Doubt?"  laughed  her  father,  "certainly 
you  could  not,  single-handed  ;  unless  his  polite- 
ness should  lead  him  to  refrain  from  any  effort 
to  defend  himself ;  and  I,  it  would  seem,  am 
not  expected  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
matter." 

A  deeper  blush  than  before  now  suffused 
Elsie's  fair  cheek.  "Forgive  me,  dear  papa," 
she  said,  laying  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and 
fondly  stroking  his  face  with  her  pretty  white 
hand.  "Please  consider  yourself  master  there 
as  truly  as  at  the  Oaks,  and  as  you  have  been  for 
years  ;  and  understand  that  your  daughter  means 
to  take  no  important  step  without  your  entire 
approval." 

"No,  I  do   not  go  there  as  master,  but  as 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  51 

join   guest,"  he   answered,  half  playfully,  k&lf 
tenderly. 

"My  guest?  That  seems  pleasant  indeed} 
papa ;  and  yet  I  want  yon  to  be  master  toe 
Bat  yon  will  at  least  advise  me  ?  " 

"To  the  best  of  my  ability,  my  little  girl.*5 

"  Thank  yon,  my  dear  kind  father.  I  hays 
another  reason  for  wishing  to  start  to-morrow. 
I'm  growing  anxious  and  impatient  to  see  my 
birth-place  again :  and,"  she  added  low  and 
tenderly,  "mamma's  grave." 

"  Yes,  we  will  visit  it  together  for  the  first 
time  ;  though  I  have  stood  there  alone  again  and 
again,  and  her  baby  daughter  used  to  be  taken 
there  frequently  to  scatter  flowers  over  it  and 
play  beside  it.     Do  you  remember  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  as  an  almost  forgotten  dream,  as 
I  do  the  house  and  grounds  and  some  of  the  old 
servants  who  petted  and  humored  me." 

While  father  and  daughter  conversed  thus 
together  in  the  parlor,  a  dusky  figure  sat  at  a 
window  in  the  adjoining  bedroom,  gazing  out 
npon  the  moonlighted  streets  and  watching  the 
passers-by.  But  her  thoughts,  too,  were  straying 
to  Viamede ;  fast-coming  memories  of  earlier 
days,  some  all  bright  and  joyous,  others  filled 
with  the  gloom  and  thick  darkness  of  a  terrible 
anguish,  made  her  by  turns  long  for  and  Iread 
the  arrival  at  her  journey's  end. 


52  XLSIE'B  WOMANHOOD. 

A  light  touch  on  her  shoulder,  and  she  turned 
to  find  her  young  mistress  at  her  side. 

"  My  poor  old  mammy,  I  bring  you  news  you 
will  be  sorry  to  hear,"  said  Elsie,  seating  herself 
upon  the  ample  lap,  and  laying  her  arm  across 
the  broad  shoulders. 

"Whatdat,  honey?" 

"  We  start  to-morrow  for  Viamede ;  papa 
has  sent  John  to  engage  our  passage  on  the 
steamer." 

"  Dat  all,  darlin'  ?  "  queried  Chloe,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  "  if  we's  got  to  go,  mights  well  go  quick 
an'  hab  it  ober." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you  take  so  sensible  a  view  of 
it,"  remarked  Elsie,  relieved  in  her  turn  ;  "  and 
I  hope  you  will  find  much  less  pain  and  more 
pleasure  than  you  expect  in  going  back  to  the  old 
home." 

The  next  morning,  as  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his 
daughter  sat  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  en- 
joying the  sunlight,  the  breeze,  and  the  dancing 
of  the  water,  haying  cleared  their  port  and  gotten 
fairly  out  into  the  gulf,  a  startling  incident 
occurred. 

Chloe  stood  at  a  respectful  distance,  leaning 
over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  watching  the  play  of 
the  wheel  and  the  rainbow  in  the  spray  that  fell 
in  showers  at  its  every  revolution.  An  old  negro 
busied  about  the  deck  ;  drew  near  and  addressed 
ker 


EL81B'8  WOMANHOOD.  6d 

•'Well,  auntie,  yon  watchin'  dat  ole  wheel 
dar  ?    Fust  time  you  trable  on  dis  boat,  eh  ?  " 

Chloe  started  at  the  sound  of  the  yoice,  turned 
suddenly  round  and  faced  the  speaker,  her  fea- 
tures working  with  emotion  :  one  moment  cf 
earnest  scrutiny  on  the  part  of  both,  and  with  a 
wild  cry,  "  Aunt  Chloe  !  my  ole  woman,"  "  Uncle 
Joe  !  it  can't  be  you,"  they  rushed  into  each 
other's  arms,  and  hung  about  each  other's  neck, 
weeping  and  sobbing  like  two  children. 

"  Papa  !  what  is  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Elsie,  greatly 
surprised  at  the  little  scene. 

"  Her  husband,  no  doubt :  he's  too  old  to  be 
a  son." 

"  Oh,  how  glad,  how  glad  lam!"  and  Elsie 
started  to  her  feet,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  her 
sweet  face  sparkling  all  oyer  with  sympathetic 
joy.  "Papa,  I  shall  buy  him  !  they  must  never 
be  parted  again  till  death  comes  between." 

A  little  crowd  had  already  gathered  about  the 
excited  couple,  every  one  on  deck  hurrying  to  the 
spot,  eager  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  tumult  of 
joy  and  grief  into  which  the  two  seemed  to  have 
been  so  suddenly  thrown. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  rose,  and  giving  his  arm  to 
Elsie,  led  her  toward  the  throng,  saying  in  answer 
to  her  last  remark,  "Better  act  through  me, 
then,  daughter,  or  you  will  probably  be  asked 
two  or  three  prices." 

"  0  papa,  yes  ;  please  attend  to  it  for  me — 


$4  ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

only — only  I  nmst  have  him,  for  dear  old  mma< 
my^s  sake,  at  whatever  cost" 

The  crowd  opened  to  the  lady  and  gentleman 
as  they  drew  neat 

"  My  poor  old  mammy,  what  is  it  ?  whom 
have  you  found  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

But  Chloe  was  speechless  with  a  joy  so  deep 
that  it  wore  the  aspect  of  an  almost  heart-break- 
ing sorrow.  She  could  only  cling  with  choking 
sobs  to  her  husband's  arm.  "  What's  all  this  fuss, 
Uncle  Joe  ?  "  queried  the  captain.  ' '  Let  go  the 
old  darkie  ;  what's  she  to  you  ?  " 

"  My  wife,  sah,  dat  I  ain't  seed  for  twenty 
years,  sah,"  replied  the  old  man,  trying  to  steady 
ni8  trembling  tones,  obeying  the  order,  but  mak 
ing  no  effort  to  shake  off  Chloe's  clinging  hold, 

"  Leave  him  for  a  little  now,  mammy  dear  ; 
you  shall  never  be  parted  again,"  whispered  Elsie 
in  her  nurse's  ear.  "Come  with  me,  and  let 
papa  talk  to  the  captain." 

Chloe  obeyed,  silently  following  her  young 
mistress  to  the  other  side  cf  the  deck,  but  ever 
and  anon  turning  her  head  to  look  back  with 
wet  eye3  at  the  old  wrinkled  black  face  and  white 
beard  that  to  her  were  so  dear,  so  charming: 
His  eyes  were  following  her  with  a  look  of  longing, 
yearning  affection,  and  involuntarily  he  stretched 
out  his  arms  toward  her. 

"  Off  to  your  work,  sir,"  ordered  the  captain. 
fJand  let's  have  no  more  of  this  nonsense." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  55 

Old  Joe  moved  away  with  a  patient  sigh, 

"  The  woman  is  your  property,  I  presume^ 
sir  ?  "  the  captain  remarked  in  a  respectful  tone, 
addressing  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter's,  which  amounts  to  the 
same  thing,"  that  gentleman  replied  in  a  tone  of 
indifference ;  then  changing  the  subject,  made 
some  inquiries  about  the  speed  and  safety  of  the 
boat,  the  length  of  her  trips,  etc. 

The  captain  answered  pleasantly,  showing 
pride  in  his  vessel.  Then  they  spoke  of  ©ther 
things  :  the  country,  the  crops,  the  weather. 

"  Sit  down,  mammy,"  said  Elsie  pityingly,  as 
they  reached  the  settee  where  she  and  her  father 
had  been  sitting ;  "  you  are  trembling  so  you  can 
scarcely  stand." 

"  0  darlin',  datfs  true  'nun*.  Fse  mos'  ready  to 
drop,"  she  said  tremulously,  coming  down  heavily 
upon  a  trunk  that  stood  close  at  hand.  "  Oh,  de 
good  Lord  hab  bring  me  face  to  face  wid  my  ole. 
Uncle  Joe ;  oh,  I  neber  Vpected  to  see  him  no 
more  in  dis  wicked  world.  But  deyTL  take  'im 
off  again  an*  dis  ole  heart  ?11  break,"  she  added, 
with  a  bursting  sob. 

"No,  no,  mammy,  you  shall  have  him,  if 
money  can  accomplish  it." 

"  You  buy  'im,  darlin'  ?  Oh,  your  ole  mammy 
o&n  neber  t'ank  you  'nuff ! "  and  a  low,  happy 
laugh  mingled  with  the  choking  sobs,  'But 
deyTl  ask  heaps  ob  money.  * 


66  ELSIE'S  WOMANUOOD. 

"You  shall  have  him,  let  the  pi  ice  be  what 
it  will,"  was  Elsie's  assurance.  "See  papa  is 
bargaining  with  the  captain  now,  for  they  look 
at  Uncle  Joe  as  they  talk." 

Chloe  regarded  them  with  eager  interest ;  yes, 
they  were  looking  at  Uncle  Joe,  and  evidently 
speaking  of  him. 

"  By  the  way,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  remarked 
carelessly,  "  does  Uncle  Joe  belong  to  you  ?  or  is 
he  merely  a  hired  hand  ?  " 

"He's  my  property,  sir." 

"  Would  you  like  to  sell  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  anxious  ;  he's  a  good  hand,  faith- 
ful and  honest :  quite  a  religious  character  in 
fact,"  he  concluded  with  a  sneer  ;  "  overshoots 
the  mark  in  prayin'  and  psalm-singing.  But  do 
you  want  to  buy  ?  " 

"  Well  yes  ;  my  daughter  is  fond  of  her  old 
mammy,  and  for  her  sake  would  be  willing  to  give 
a  reasonable  sum.     What  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Make  me  an  offer." 

"Five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Five  hundred  ?  ridiculous  !  he's  worth  twice 
that" 

"  I  think  not,  he  is  old — not  far  from  seventy 
and  will  soon  be  past  work  and  only  a  burden 
and  expense.     My  offer  is  a  good  one." 

"  Make  it  seven  hundred  and  I'll  take  it." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  considered  a  moment  That 
is  too  high,"  he  said  at  length,  '  but  for  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  5? 

of  making  two  poor   creatures  happy,   I   will 
give  it* 

"  Cash  down  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  check  on  a  New  Orleans  bank." 

"  Please  walk  down  into  the  cabin  then,  sir 
and  well  conclude  the  business  at  once." 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Dinsmore  returned 
to  his  daughter's  side,  and  placing  the  receipted 
bill  of  sale  in  her  hands,  asked,  ' i  Have  I  given 
too  much  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  papa,  no  mdeed !  I  should  have 
given  a  thousand  without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
if  asked  it — five,  ten  thousand,  if  need  be,  rather 
than  have  them  parted  again,"  she  exclaimed, 
the  bright  tears  shining  in  her  eyes.  ' '  Mammy, 
my  poor  old  mammy,  Uncle  Joe  belongs  to  me 
now,  and  you  can  have  him  always  with  you  as 
long  as  the  Lord  spares  your  lives." 

"  Now  bress  de  Lord  S "  cried  the  old  woman 
devoutly,  raising  her  streaming  eyes  and  clasped 
hands  to  heaven  ;  "  de  good  Lord  dat  hears  de 
prayers  ob  his  chilen's  cryin'  to  him  when  dere 
hearts  is  oberwhelmed  ! " 

"  Go  break  the  news  to  Uncle  Joe,  mammy," 
said  Elsie  ;  "  see,  yonder  he  stands  looking  so 
9feger  and  wistful." 

Chloe  hurried  to  his  side,  spoke  a  few  rapid 
morels ;  there  was  another  long,  clinging,  tearful 
embrace,  and  they  hastened  to  their  master  and 
mistress  to  pour  out  their  thanks  and  blessings 

3* 


58  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

upon  them,  mingled  with  praises  and  fervent 
thanksgivings  to  the  Giver  of  all  good. 

The  joy  and  gratitude  of  the  poor  old  couple 
ifere  very  sweet,  very  delightful  to  Elsie,  and 
scarcely  less  so  to  lier  father. 

"  Mammy  dear,  I  never  saw  you  wear  so  happy 
a  face,"  Elsie  said,  as  Chloe  returned  to  her  aftei 
an  hour  or  two  spent  in  close  conversation  with 
her  newly  recovered  spouse. 

"Ah,  honey,  your  ole  mammy  tinks  she 
neber  so  glad  in  all  her  life  ?  "  cried  the  poor  old 
creature,  clasping  her  hands  together  in  an  ecstasy 
of  joy  and  gratitude  while  the  big  tears  shone  in 
her  eyes.  "  I'se  got  ole  Uncle  Joe  back  agin,  an' 
he  not  de  same,  he  bettah  man,  Christian  man. 
He  say,  ' Aunt  Chloe  we  uns  trabble  de  same  road 
now,  honey  :  young  Joe  proud,  angry,  swearing 
drinkin'  boy,  your  Ole  Joe  he  lub  de  Lord  an'  try 
to  sarve  him  wid  all  he  might.  And  de  Lord 
good  Massa.     De  debbil  berry  bad  one.'" 

"  Dear  mammy,  I  am  very  glad  for  you  ;  ] 
think  nothing  else  could  have  made  you  sc 
happy." 

Chloe,  weeping  again  for  joy,  went  on  to  teD 
her  young  mistress  that  Uncle  Joe  had  discovered 
ft  grandchild  in  New  Orleans,  Dinah  by  name, 
waiting-maid  in  a  wealthy  family. 

"  But  how  is  that,  mammy  ?  Papa  and  I 
thought  all  your  children  died  young." 

u  ~No,  darlin',  when  Massa  Griyson  buy  me  is 


ELBIB'S  WOMAJ$EQOI>.  19 

New  Orleans,  air*  de  odder  gentleman  buy  Uncle 
Joe,  we  nab  little  girl  four  years  ole,  an  de  ole 
missus  keep  her,"  sobbed  Ohloe,  living  oyer 
again  the  agony  of  the  parting,  "  an'  Dinah  her 
chile." 

"  Mammy,  if  money  will  buy  her,  yon  shall 
have  her,  too,"  said  Elsie  earnestly. 

The  remainder  of  the  short  voyage  was  a 
happy  time  to  the  whole  of  our  little  party,  Ohloe, 
with  her  restored  husband  by  her  side,  now  look- 
ing forward  to  the  visit  to  Yiamede  with  almost 
onmingled  pleasure. 

As  they  passed  up  the  bay,  entered  Teche 
Bayou  and  pressed  on,  threading  their  way 
through  lake  and  lakelet,  past  plain  and  forest, 
plantation  and  swamp,  Elsie  exclaimed  again 
and  again  at  the  beauty  of  the  scenery.  Cool 
shady  dells  carpeted  with  a  rich  growth  of  flow- 
ers, miles  upon  miles  of  lawns  as  smoothly  shaven, 
as  velvety  green  and  as  nobly  shaded  by  magnifi- 
cent oaks  and  magnolias,  as  any  king's  demesne  ; 
lordly  villas  peering  through  groves  of  orange 
trees,  tall  white  sugar-houses  and  the  long  rows 
of  cabins  of  the  laborers  ;  united  to  form  a  pano- 
rama of  surpassing  loveliness, 

"  Is  Viamede  as  lovely  as  that,  papa  ? "  Elsie 
would  ask,  as  they  steamed  past  one  fine  resi- 
dence after  another. 

"  Quite,"  he  would  reply  with  a  smile,  at 
length  adding,  "  There  is  not  a  more  beautiful 


80  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

or  valuable  estate  in  the  country ;  as  you  m&^ 
judge  for  yourself,  for  this  is  it." 

"  This,  papa  ?  Oh  it  is  lovely,  lovely  *  and 
everything  in  such  perfect  order,"  she  cried 
delightedly  as  they  swept  on  past  a  large  sugar- 
house  and  an  immense  orange  orchard,  whose 
golden  fruit  and  glossy  leaves  shone  brightly 
in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  nearly  setting  sun, 
to  a  lawn  as  large,  as  thickly  carpeted  with 
smoothly  shaven  gra33  and  many-hued  flowers, 
and  as  finely  shaded  with  giant  oaks,  graceful 
magnolias,  and  groves  of  orange  trees,  as  any  they 
had  passed.  The  house — a  grand  old  mansion 
with  spacious  rooms,  wide  cool  halls  and  corri- 
dors— was  now  in  full  view,  now  half  concealed 
by  the  trees  and  shrubbery. 

The  boat  rounded  to  at  a  little  pier  opposite 
the  dwelling,  and  in  another  moment  our  friends 
had  landed,  and  leaving  the  servants  to  attend  to 
the  baggage  were  walking  on  toward  the  house, 


Cljapftr  Sfirijj. 


■  Wilt  tho*  dia1^  near  the  nature  of  the  fods  T 
Draw  near  them  then  in  being  merciful, 
Sweet  mercy  is  nobility's  true  badge." 

— SHAKSSP3A-K&. 

••  Papa,  it  seems  an  earthly  paradise,"  said 
Elide,  "and  like  a  dream  that  I  have  seen  ail 
oefore." 

"  A  dream  that  was  a  reality.  And  it  is  all 
your  own,  my  darling,"  he  answered  with  a  prond, 
fond  look  into  the  bright  animated  face,  keenly 
enjoying  her  pleasure. 

"But  what,  what  is  going  on  there  ?"  she 
asked,  gazing  intently  in  the  direction  of  the  negro 
quarter,  where  a  large  crowd  of  them,  probably 
ail  belonging  to  the  plantation,  were  assembled. 

At  that  instant  something  rose  in  the  air  and 
lescended  again,  and  a  wild  shriek,  a  woman's 
wail  of  agony,  rent  the  air. 

Elsie  flew  oyer  the  ground  as  though  she  had 
betm  a  winged  creature,  her  father  haying  to 
exert  himself  to  keep  pace  with  her.  But  the 
whip  had  descended  again  and   again,   anothef 


62  EL8IE'8  WOMAMEOOD. 

and  another  of  those  wild  shrieks,  testifying  to 
the  sharpness  of  its  6ting,  ere  they  were  near 
enough  to  interfere. 

So  taken  up  with  the  excitement  of  the  revolt- 
ing  scene  were  all  present,  that  the  landing  and 
the  approach  of  our  friends  had  not  been  observed 
until  Elsie,  nearing  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  called 
out  in  a  voice  of  authority,  and  indignation, 
"  Stop  !  not  another  blow  ! " 

The  crowd  parted,  showing  a  middle-aged 
negress  stripped  to  the  waist  and  tied  to  a  whip- 
ping post,  writhing  and  sobbing  with  pain  and 
terror,  while  a  white  man  stood  oyer  her  with  a 
horse-whip  in  his  uplifted  hand,  stayed  in  mid- 
air by  the  sudden  appearance  of  those  in  author- 
ity over  him. 

"  How  dare  you  !  how  dare  you  ! "  cried  Elsie, 
stamping  her  foot,  and  drawing  a  long,  sobbing 
breath.     "  Take  her  down  this  instant" 

"  Mr.  Spriggs,  what  ia  the  meaning  of  this  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  in  tones  of  calm  displeas- 
ure ;  "  did  I  not  forbid  all  cruel  punishment  on 
this  estate  ?  " 

"Fve  got  to  make  'em  work;  I'm  bound 
chey  shall,  and  nothing  but  the  whip  '11  do  it 
with  this  lazy  wretch,"  muttered  Spriggs,  drop- 
ping his  whip  and  stepping  back  a  little,  while 
two  stalwart  fellows  obeyed  Elsie'B  order  to  take 
foe  woman  down,  a  murmur  at  the  same  time 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  63 

running  from  lip  to  lip,  "  It's  Marse  Dinsmore, 
and  our  young  missus. " 

Elsie  shuddered  and  wept  at  sight  of  the 
bleeding  back  and  shoulders.  "  Cover  her  up 
quickly,  and  take  her  away  where  she  can  lie 
down  and  rest,"  she  said  to  the  women  who  were 
crowding  round  to  greet  and  welcome  herself 
"  I  will  speak  to  you  all  afterward,  I'm  glad  tfc 
be  here  among  you."  Then  leaning  over  the 
sufferer  for  an  instant,  with  fast-dropping  tears 
"  Be  comforted,"  she  said,  in  tones  of  gentle  com- 
passion, "you  shall  never  have  this  to  endure 
again. " 

"  Come,  daughter,  speak  to  these  eager  people, 
and  let  us  go  into  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"  Yes,  papa,  in  one  moment." 

Drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  and 
flashing  one  look  of  scorn  and  indignation  out  of 
her  dark  eyes  upon  the  crest-fallen  Spriggs,  she 
addressed  him  with  the  air  of  a  queen.  "  You,  sir, 
will  meet  me  in  the  library  at  eight  o'clock  this 
evening." 

Turning  to  the  men,  "  Dig  up  that  post,  and 
split  it  into  kindling  wood  for  the  kitchen  fire." 

Her  father,  while  shaking  hands  with  the 
blacks,  speaking  a  kindly  word  to  each,  regarded 
her  with  mingled  curiosity  and  admiration  ;  thoi> 
oughly  acquainted  with  his  child  as  he  had  be- 
lieved himself  to  be,  he  now  saw  her  in  a  ne-w 
character. 


S4  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

She  took  his  arin,  and  he  felt  that  she  wa* 
trembling  very  much.  He  supported  her  ten- 
derly, while  the  women  flocked  about  them, 
eagerly  welcoming  her  to  Viamede  ;  kissing  her 
hand,  and  declaring  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  that 
it  was  just  their  "  dear  dead  young  missus  come 
back  to  them,  like  a  beautiful  white  angeL" 

The  first  who  claimed  her  attention,  intro- 
duced herself  as  "  Aunt  Phillis  de  housekeepah. 
An'  Fse  got  eberyting  ready  for  you,  honey ; 
ie  beds  is  aired,  de  fires  laid  in  de  drawin'-room, 
an'  library,  an'  sleepin'  rooms,  an'  de  pantry  fuD 
ob  the  nicest  tings  dis  chile  an'  ole  Aunt  Sally 
know  how  to  cook ;  an'  I  sent  Jack  right  to  d© 
house  to  start  de  fires  de  fust  minute  dese  ole 
eyes  catch  sight  ob  massa  an'  young  missus,  an' 
knows  dey  heyah." 

"  My  dear  child,  all  tills  is  quite  too  much  for 
you,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  attempting  to  draw  his 
daughter  away. 

"Just  a  moment,  papa,  please,"  she  an- 
swered in  a  slightly  unsteady  voice ;  "let  me 
speak  to  them  all."  He  yielded,  but  cut  short 
fche  garrulity  of  some  who  would  have  liked  to 
mingle  reminiscences  of  her  babyhood  with  their 
rejoicing  over  her  return,  telling  them  they  must 
reserve  such  communication  for  a  more  suitable 
time,  as  their  young  mistress  was  faint  and 
weary,  and  must  have  rest. 

The  appearance  of  Chloe  and  her  recovered 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  65 

husband  upon  the  scene,  now  created  a  diversion 
in  their  favor,  and  he  presently  succeeded  in  lead- 
ing Elsie  to  the  house. 

A  young  mulatto  girl  followed  them  into  the 
irawing-rooni,  where  a  bright  wood  fire  was 
blazing  on  the  hearth,  asking  if  she  should  take 
Miss  Elsie's  things. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  removing  his 
daughter's  hat  and  shawl,  and  handing  them 
to  her. 

She  left  the  room  ;  and  taking  Elsie  in  his 
arms,  and  gently  laying  her  head  upon  his  breast, 
"  Let  the  tears  have  their  way,  darling,"  he  said, 
"it  will  do  you  good." 

For  several  minutes  the  tears  came  in  Hoods. 
"Oh,  papa,"  she  sobbed,  "to  think  that  my 
people,  my  poor  people,  should  be  so  served.  It 
must  never,  never  be  again  ! " 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  we  will  find  means  to  pre- 
vent it.    There,  you  feel  better  now,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Papa  dear,  welcome,  welcome  to 
my  house  ;  the  dearest  guest  that  could  come  into 
it."  And  wiping  away  her  tears,  she  lifted  her 
loving  eyes  to  his,  a  tender  smile  playing  about 
the  sweet  lips. 

"  Save  one,"  he  answered  half -playfully,  pass- 
ing his  hand  caressingly  over  her  hair,  and  bend- 
ing down  to  press  his  lips  on  brow,  and  cheeks, 
and  mouth.     "  Is  not  that  so  ?  " 

" No,  my  own  dear  father,  save  none,"  with 


66  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

a  charming  blush,  but  eyes  looking  steadily  into 
his  ;  "  when  he  comes,  it  shall  be  as  master,  not 
guest.  But  now  tell  me,  please,  what  ^an  I  do 
Tith  this  Spriggs  ?  I  should  like  to  pay  him  a 
month's  wages  in  advance,  and  start  him  oh*  early 
to-morrow  morning." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  It 
would  not  do,  my  child.  The  sugar-making 
season  will  shortly  begin ;  he  understands  the 
business  thoroughly ;  we  could  not  supply  his 
place  at  a  moment's  notice,  or  probably  in  a  num- 
ber of  months,  and  the  whole  crop  would  be  lost. 
We  must  not  be  hasty  or  rash,  but  remember 
the  Bible  command,  '  Let  your  moderation  be 
known  unto  all  men.'  Nor  should  we  allow  our- 
selves to  judge  the  man  too  hardly." 

"  Too  hardly,  papa  !  too  hardly,  when  he  has 
shown  himself  so  cruel !  But  I  beg  pardon  for 
interrupting  you." 

"Yes,  too  hardly,  daughter.  He  is  a  New 
Englander,  used  to  see  every  one  about  him  work- 
ing with  steady,  persevering  industry,  and  the 
indolent,  dawdling  ways  of  the  blacks,  which  we 
take  as  a  matter  of  course,  are  exceedingly  trying 
to  him.  I  think  he  has  been  very  faitlif ul  to  your 
interests,  and  that  probably  his  desire  and  deter- 
mination to  see  them  advanced  to  the  utmost, 
led,  more  than  anything  else,  to  the  act  which 
seems  to  us  so  cruel." 

"And  could  he  suppose  that  I  would  h*y« 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  67 

olood  wrung  from  my  poor  people  that  a  fe^r 
more  dollars  might  find  their  way  into  my 
purse?  "  she  cried  in  indignant  sorrow  and  anger. 
e '  Oh,  papa,  I  am  not  so  cruel,  you  know  I  am 
not" 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  I  know  you  have  a  very 
tender,  loving  heart." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  with  Spriggs  ?  " 

For  to-night,  express  your  sentiments  and 
feelings  on  the  subject  as  calmly  and  moderately 
as  you  can,  and  enjoin  it  upon  him  to  act  in  ac- 
cordance with  them.  Then  we  may  consider  at 
our  leisure  what  further  measures  can  be  taken." 

"  Papa,  you  are  so  much  wiser  and  better  than 
I,"  she  said,  with  loving  admiration.  "I'm 
afraid  if  you  had  not  been  here  to  advise  me,  I 
should  have  sent  him  away  at  once,  with  never  a 
thought  of  crops  or  anything  except  securing  my 
people  from  his  cruelties." 

"  You  should  never  allow  yourself  to  act  from 
mere  impulse,  except  it  be  unquestionably  a  right 
one,  and  the  case  admitting  of  no  time  for  de- 
liberation. As  to  my  superior  wisdom,"  lie 
added  with  a  smile,  "I  have  lived  some  years 
longer  than  you,  and  had  more  experience  in  the 
management  of  business  matters. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  my  darling,  that  the  pleas- 
ure of  your  return  to  the  home  of  your  infancy 
should  be  so  marred.  But  you  have  scarcely 
taken  a  look  yet  at  even  this  room.  What  do 
you  think  of  it  ?  " 


88  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

She  glanced  about  her  with  freshly  aroused 
curiosity  and  interest.  "  Papa,  it  is  just  to  my 
taste!" 

The  firelight  gleamed  ipon  rare  old  cabinets, 
gems  of  art  in  painting  and  statuary,  and  rich, 
massive,  well-preserved,  though  old-fashioned 
sofas,  chairs,  tables,  etc.  Bu+  it  was  arready 
growing  dark,  deep  shadows  were  gathering  in 
the  more  distant  parts  of  the  spacious  apartment, 
and  only  near  the  fire  could  objects  be  distinctly 
seen.  Elsie  was  about  to  ring  for  lights,  when 
Sarah,  the  mulatto  girl,  appeared,  bringing  thenx, 
Chloe  following  close  in  the  rear. 

"  Have  you  fires  and  lights  in  the  library,  the 
dining-room,  and  your  master's  rooms  and 
mine  ? "  inquired  Elsie. 

" I)e  fires  is  lit,  Miss  Elsie." 

"Then  add  the  lights  at  once,  and  put  them 
in  all  the  principal  rooms  of  the  house.  We  will 
have  an  illumination  in  honor  of  our  arrival, 
papa,"  she  said,  in  a  sprightly  tone,  turning  to 
him  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles,  "  and  besides, 
I  want  to  see  the  whole  house  now." 

"  Are  you  not  too  much  fatigued,  daughter  ? 
and  would  it  not  be  better  to  defer  it  till  to-mor- 
row?" 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  too  tired,  papa ;  but  if  yon 
forbid  me — " 

"  No,  I  don't  forbid  or  even  advise,  if  you  are 
sure  you  feel  equal  to  the  exertion." 


EL81E'8  WOMANHOOD.  69 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  think  I'll  be  better  able 
to  sleep  if  I've  seen  at  least  the  most  of  it ;  old 
memories  are  troubling  me,  and  I  want  to  see 
how  far  they  are  correct.  You  will  go  with 
me?" 

"Certainly,"  he  said,  giving  her  his  arm. 
"  But  while  the  servants  are  obeying  your  order 
in  regard  to  the  lights,  let  us  examine  these 
paintings  more  attentively.  They  will  repay 
close  scrutiny,  for  some  of  them  are  by  the  first 
masters.  Your  Grandfather  Grayson  seems  to 
have  been  a  man  of  cultivated  taste,  as  well  as 
great  business  talent." 

"  Yes,  papa.     What  is  it,  mammy  ?" 

"Does  you  want  me,  darlin'  ?" 

"No,  not  now.  Go  and  enjoy  yourself  with 
your  husband  and  old  friends." 

Chloe  expressed  her  grateful  thanks,  and 
withdrew. 

Elsie  found  the  paintings  and  statuary  a  study, 
and  had  scarcely  finished  her  survey  of  the  draw- 
ing-room and  its  treasures  of  art,  when  Aunt 
Phillis  came  to  ask  if  they  would  have  tea  served 
up  immediately. 

Elsie  looked  at  her  father. 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  you  will  feel  stronger 
after  eating,  and  it  is  about  our  usual  time." 

"  Then  let  us  have  it,  Aunt  Phillis.  How  is 
that  poor  creature  now  ? "  asked  her  young 
mistress. 


70  ELB1E'8  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Suse,  honey  ?  oh,  she'll  do  well  'nuff ;  dou't 
do  her  no  harm  to  take  some  ob  de  lazy  blood 
out.  Massa  Spriggs  not  so  terrible  cross,  Mis* 
Elsie  ;  but  he  bound  de  work  git  done,  an'  Suse 
she  mighty  powerful  lazy,  jes'  set  in  de  sun  an' 
do  numV  from  mornin'  to  night,  ef  nobody  roun' 
to  make  her  work." 

"Ah,  that  is  very  bad;  we  must  try  to 
reform  her  in  some  way.  But  perhaps  she's  not 
well." 

"Dunno,  missus  ;  she's  always  'plaining  ob  de 
misery  in  her  back,  an'  misery  in  her  head  ;  but 
don't  ebery  one  hab  a  misery,  some  kind,  most 
days  ?  an'  go  on  workin'  all  de  same.  No, 
missus,  Suse  she  powerful  lazy  ole  nigga." 

With  that  Phillis  retired,  and  shortly  after,  tea 
was  announced  as  ready. 

Elsie  played  the  part  of  hostess  to  perfection, 
presiding  over  the  tea-urn  with  ease  and  grace, 
and  pressing  upon  her  father  the  numerous  dain- 
ties with  which  the  table  was  loaded.  She 
seemed  to  have  recovered  her  spirits,  and  as  she 
Bat  there  gayly  chatting — of  the  room,  which 
pleased  her  as  entirely  as  the  other,  and  of  her 
plans  for  usefulness  and  pleasure  during  her 
stay,  he  thought  he  had  cever  seen  her  look  hap- 
pier or  more  beautiful. 

1  What  rooms  have  you  prepared  for  yoai 
mistress,  Aunt  Phillis  ? "  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
as  they  rose  from  the  table. 


ELSIE'S   WOMANHOOD  71 

"De  same  whar  she  was  born,  massa,  an 
arhar  her  dear  bressed  ma  stay  when  she  Lvin 
heyah." 

A  slight  shadow  stole  over  Elsie's  bright  face, 
"  That  was  right/'  she  said,  low  and  softly.  "  I 
should  prefer  them  to  any  others.  But  where 
are  papa's  rooms  ?  " 

"  Jes'  across  de  hall,  Miss  Elsie." 

"  That  is  a  good  arrangement,"  said  Mr. 
Dinsmore.  "  Now,  daughter,  I  think  we  should 
repair  to  the  library.  It  is  near  the  hour  you 
appointed  for  Mr.  Spriggs." 

"Just  a3  handsome,  as  tastefully,  appropri- 
ately, and  luxuriously  furnished  as  the  others, M 
was  Elsie's  comment  on  the  library.  "  I  seem  to 
see  the  same  hand  everywhere." 

'-'  Yes,  and  it  is  the  same  all  over  the  house," 
replied  her  father.  "  The  books  here  will  delight 
you ;  for  a  private  library  it  is  a  very  fine  one, 
containing  many  hundred  volumes,  as  you  maj 
see  at  a  glance  ;  standard  works  on  history,  and 
the  arts  and  sciences,  biographies,  travels,  work* 
of  reference,  the  works  of  the  best  poets,  novel 
ists,  etc." 

"  Ah,  how  we  will  enjoy  them  while  here  J 
But  it  seems  a  sad  pity  they  should  have  lain  on 
those  shelves  unused  for  so  many  years." 

"  Not  entirely,  my  child ;  I  have  enjoyed 
them  in  my  brief  visits  to  the  plantation,  and 
have  alwavs  allowed  the  overseer  free  access  to 


t%  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

them,  on  the  single  condition  that  they  should 
be  handled  with  care,  and  each  returned  promptlj 
to  its  proper  place  when  done  with.  But  come, 
take  this  easy  chair  by  this  table  ;  here  are  some 
fine  engravings  I  want  you  to  look  at." 

Elsie  obeyed,  but  had  scarcely  seated  herself 
when  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  a  servants 
voice  announced,  "Massa  Spriggs,  Massa  Dins- 
more  and  Miss  Elsie." 

Spriggs,  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  powerfully, 
built  man,  with  dark  hair  and  beard  and  a  small, 
keen  black  eye,  came  forward  with  a  bold  free  air 
and  a  "  Goodeven',  miss,  goodeven',  sir  ; "  adding, 
as  he  helped  himself  to  a  seat  without  waiting  for 
an  invitation,  "  Well,  here  I  am,  and  I  s'pose 
you've  somethin'  to  say  or  you  wouldn't  have 
appointed  the  meetin'." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Spriggs,"  said  Elsie,  folding  her 
pretty  hands  in  her  lap  and  looking  steadily  and 
coldly  into  his  brazen  face,  "  I  have  this  to  say  ; 
that  I  entirely  disapprove  of  flogging,  and  will 
have  none  of  it  on  the  estate.  I  hope  you  under- 
stand me." 

"  That's  plain  English  and  easy  understood, 
Miss  Dinsmore,  and  of  course  you  have  a  right 
bo  dictate  in  the  matter  ;  but  I  tell  you  what, 
these  darkies  o'  yours  are  a  dreadful  lazy  set, 
specially  that  Suse  ;  and  it's  mighty  hard  for  folks 
that's  been  used  to  seein'  things  done  up  spic  and 
span  and  smart  to  put  up  with  it" 


ELBIE'B  WOMANHOOD.  73 

"  But  some  amount  of  patience  with  the  nat- 
ural slowness  of  the  negro  is  a  necessary  trait  in 
the  character  of  an  overseer  who  wishes  to  remain 
in  my  employ." 

"  Well,  miss,  I  always  calculate  to  do  the 
very  best  I  can  by  my  employers,  and  when  you 
come  to  look  round  the  estate,  I  guess  you'll  find 
things  in  prime  order  ;  but  I  couldn't  ha'  done 
it  without  lettin'  the  darkies  know  they'd  got  to 
toe  the  mark  right   straight." 

"  They  must  attend  to  the  work,  of  course,  and 
if  they  won't  do  so  willingly,  must  under  compul- 
sion ;  but  there  are  milder  measures  than  this 
brutal  flogging. " 

"  What  do  you  prescribe,  Miss  Dinsmore  ?  " 

"  Deprive  them  of  some  privilege,  or  lock 
them  up  on  bread  and  water  for  a  few  days," 
Elsie  answered  ;  then  turned  an  appealing  look 
upon  her  father,  who  had  as  yet  played  the  part 
of  a  mere  listener. 

"  I  have  never  allowed  any  flogging  on  my 
estate,"  he  observed,  addressing  Spriggs,  and  I 
cannot  think  it  at  all  necessary." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  Sprigge  sit- 
ting looking  into  the  fire,  a  half-smile  playing 
about  his  lip3 ;  then  turning  to  Elsie,  "  1 
thought,  miss,  you'd  a  mind  this  evening  to  dis- 
miss me  on  the  spot,"  he  remarked  inquiringly. 

She  flushed  slightly,  but  replied  wcL  dignity, 
"If  you  will  comply  with  my  dixdQt.ons,  arir- 


74  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

pledging  yourself  never  again  to  be  so  cruel,  I 
have  no  desire  to  dismiss  you  from  my  service." 

"  All  right  then,  miss.  I  promise,  and  shall 
still  do  the  best  I  can  for  your  interests ;  but 
if  they  suffer  because  I'm  forbidden  to  use  the 
lash,  please  remember  it's  not  my  fault." 

"  I  am  willing  to  take  the  risk,"  she  answered, 
intimating  with  a  motion  of  her  hand  that  she 
considered  the  interne  w  at  an  end  ;  whereupon 
he  rose  and  bowed  himself  out. 

"  Now,  papa,  for  our  tour  of  inspection," 
she  cried  gayly,  rising  as  she  spoke,  and  ringing 
for  a  servant  to  carry  the  light.  "  But  first  please 
tell  me  if  I  was  sufficiently  moderate." 

"You  did  very  well,"  he  answered,  smiling. 
"  You  take  to  the  r61e  of  mistress  much  more 
naturally  than  I  expected." 

"  Yet  it  does  seem  very  odd  to  me  to  be  giv- 
ing orders  while  you  sit  by  a  mere  looker-on. 
But,  dear  papa,  please  remember  I  am  still  your 
own  child,  and  ready  to  submit  to  your  author- 
ity, whenever  you  see  fit  to  exert  it." 

"I  know  it,  my  darling,"  he  said,  passing  an 
arm  about  her  waist,  as  they  stood  together  in 
front  of  the  fire,  and  gazing  fondly  down  into 
the  sweet  fair  face. 

Aunt  Chloe  answered  the  bell,  bringing  a 
lamp  in  her  hand. 

"  That  is  right,  mammy,"  Elsie  said,  "  Now 
lead  the  way  oyer  the  house." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  76 

As  they  passed  from  room  to  room,  and  from 
o**e  spacious  hall  or  corridor  t>  another,  Elsie  ex- 
pressed her  entire  satisfaction  with  them  and  their 
appointments,  and  accorded  to  Annt  Phillis  the 
meed  of  praise  due  her  careful  housekeeping. 

"  And  here,  my  darling,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said 
at  length,  leading  the  way  through  a  beautiful 
boudoir  and  dressing-room  into  an  equally  ele- 
gant and  attractive  bed-room  beyond,  "they  tell 
me  you  were  born,  and  your  beloved  mother 
passed  from  earth  to  heaven. " 

"  An'  eberyting  in  de  room  stands  jes*  as  dey 
did  den,  honey,"  said  Aunt  Chloe.  And  ap- 
proaching the  bed,  her  eyes  swimming  in  tears, 
and  laying  her  hand  upon  the  pillow,  "  jes'  here 
my  precious  young  missus  lie,  wid  cheeks  'mos* 
as  white  as  de  linen,  an'  eyes  so  big  an'  bright, 
an'  de  lubly  curls  streamin'  all  roun',  an'  she  say, 
weak  an'  low,  '  Mammy,  bring  me  my  baby.' 
Den  I  put  you  in  her  arms,  darlin',  an'  she  kiss 
you  all  ober  your  tiny  face,  an'  de  tears  an'  sobs 
come  fast  while  she  say,  '  Poor  little  baby ;  no 
fader  no  mudder  to  lub  her !  nobody  but  you, 
mammy ;  take  her  an'  bring  her  up  to  lub  de 
dear  Lord  Jesus.,,, 

Silent  tears  rolled  down  Elsie's  cheeks  as  she 
looked  and  listened ;  but  her  father  drew  her  to 
his  breast  and  kissed  them  away,  his  own.  eyes 
brimming,  his  heart  too  full  tor  speech. 

Presently  he  led  her  back  to  the  boudoir,  and 


76  ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD. 

showed  her  the  portraits  of  her  maternal  grand 
parents,  and  one  of  her  mother,  taken  at  ten  01 
twelve  years  of  age. 

"  What  a  lovely  little  girl  she  was,"  murmured 
Elsie,  gazing  lovingly  upon  it. 

"  Very  much  like  what  her  daughter  was  at 
the  same  age/'  he  answered.  "  But  come,  this, 
too,  will  interest  you.'''  And  lifting  the  lid  of  a 
dainty  work-basket,  he  pointed  to  a  bit  of  em- 
broidery, in  which  the  needle  was  still  sticking,  as 
though  it  had  been  laid  down  by  the  deft  fingers 
but  a  few  moments  ago. 

Elsie  caught  it  up  and  kissed  it,  thinking  of 
the  touch  of  those  dear  dead  fingers,  that  seemed 
to  linger  over  it  yet. 


Cjragter  StbnttJ. 


"  She  was  the  pride 
Of  her  familiar  sphere,  the  daily  joy 
Of  all  who  on  her  gracefulness  might  gasa, 
And  in  the  light  and  music  of  her  way 
Have  a  companion's  portion." 

— WiLms'  Posas, 

Elsie  had  fallen  asleep  thinking  of  the  dear 
mother  whose  wealth  she  inherited,  and  whose 
place  she  was  now  filling  ;  thinking  of  her  aa 
supremely  blest,  in  that  glorious,  happy  land, 
where  sin  and  sorrow  are  unknown.  Thinking, 
too,  of  Him,  through  whose  shed  blood  she  had 
found  admittance  there. 

The  same  sweet  thoughts  were  still  in  the 
loving  daughter's  mind,  as  she  woke  to  find  the 
morning  sun  shining  brightly,  a  fire  blazing 
cheerily  on  the  hearth,  and  Aunt  Chloe  coming 
in  with  a  silver  waiter  filled  with  oranges  pre- 
pared for  eating  in  the  manner  usual  in  the 
tropics. 

She  had  gathered  them  the  night  before., 
taken  off  the  peel,  leaving  the  thick  white  skin 
underneath  except  on  the  top  of    each,  where 


78  JSLSIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

she  cut  it  away  from  a  spot  about  the  size  of  a 
silver  quarter  of  a  dollar.  She  then  placed  them 
on  a  waiter,  with  the  cut  part  uppermost, 
and  set  them  where  the  dew  would  fall  on  them 
all  night.  Morning  found  them  with  the  skin 
hard  and  leathery,  but  filled  with  delicious  juice, 
which  could  be  readily  withdrawn  from  it 

At  that  sight,  a  sudi^n  memory  seemed  to 
flash  upon  Elsie,  and  starting  up  in  the  bed, 
"  Mammy  ! "  she  cried,  "  didn't  you  do  that 
yery  thing  when  I  was  a  child  ?  " 

"What,  honey?  bring  de  oranges  in  de 
mornin'  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  seem  to  remember  your  coming  in  at 
that  door,  with  just  such  a  waiterful." 

"  Yes,  darlin',  de  folks  alius  eats  dem  'foah 
breakfast.  Deys  jes'  lubly,  Miss  Elsie  ;  massa  say 
so,  lubly  and  delicious."  And  she  brought  the 
waiter  to  her  bedside,  holding  it  out  for  her 
young  mistress  to  help  herself. 

"  Yes,  mammy  dear,  they  look  very  tempting, 
but  I  won't  eat  with  unwashed  hands  and  face," 
said  Elsie  gayly.  "And  so  papa  has  stolen  a 
march  upon  me  and  risen  first  ?  " 

"  Yes  darlin',  massa  out  on  the  veranda,  but 
he  say,  'Let  your  missus  sleep  long  as  she  will.' " 

"  My  always  kind  and  indulgent  father ! 
Mammy,  I'll  take  a  bath  ;  and  then  while  you 
arrange  my  hair,  I'll  try  the  oranges.  Go  now 
and  ask  papa  when  he  will  have  his  breakfast, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  79 

and  tell  Aunt  Phillis  to  see  that  it  is  ready  at  the 
hour  he  names." 

Chloe  obeyed,  and  an  hour  later  Elsie  met  her 
father  in  the  breakfast-room  so  glad,  so  gay,  go 
bright,  that  his  heart  swelled  with  joy  and  pleas- 
ure in  his  child,  and  all  fears  that  she  had  over- 
fatigued  herself  vanished  from  his  mind. 

She  was  full  of  plans  for  the  comfort  and 
profit  of  her  people,  but  all  to  be  subject  to  his  ap- 
proval. "  Papa  dear,"  she  said  as  soon  as  their 
morning  greetings  had  been  exchanged,  "  I  think 
of  sending  for  a  physician  to  examine  Suse  and  tell 
us  whether  there  is  reason  for  her  complaints.  She 
must  not  be  forced  to  work  if  she  is  really  ill.' 

"I  think  it  would  be  well,"  he  replied. 
"  There  is  an  excellent  physician  living  about 
three  miles  from  here." 

Elsie  was  prompt  in  action  by  both  nature 
and  training,  and  instantly  summoning  a  servant, 
despatched  him  at  once  on  the  proposed  errand. 

"  And  now  what  next  ?  "  smilingly  inquired 
her  father. 

"Well,  papa,  after  breakfast  and  prayers — 
how  some  of  the  old  servants  seemed  to  enjoy 
them  last  night — I  think  of  going  down  to  the 
quarter  to  see  what  may  be  needed  there.  Un- 
less you  have  some  other  plan  for  me,y  she  added 
quickly. 

"  Suppose  we  first  mount  our  horses  and  ride 
sver  the  estate,   to  learn  for  ourselves  whether 


80  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Mr.  Spriggs  has  been  as  faithful  a3  he  would 
have  us  believe." 

"Ah  yes,  papa;  yours  is  always  the  bette? 
plan." 

Their  ride  in  the  clear,  sweet  morning  air 
was  most  delightful,  and  both  felt  gratified  with 
the  fine  appearance  of  the  crops  and  the  discovery 
that  Spriggs'  boast  was  no  idle  one ;  everything 
being  in  the  nicest  order. 

They  took  the  quarter  on  the  way  to  the 
house,  and  dismounting,  entered  one  neatly  white- 
washed cabin  after  another,  kindly  inquiring  into 
the  condition  and  wants  of  the  inmates,  Elsie 
making  notes  on  her  tablets  that  nothing  might 
be  forgotten. 

Everywhere  the  visit  was  received  with  joy  and 
gratitude,  and  an  almost  worshipful  homage  paid 
to  the  sweet  young  mistress  whom  they  seemed 
to  regard  as  akin  to  the  angels :  probably  in  a 
great  measure  because  of  her  extraordinary  like- 
ness to  her  mother,  of  whom,  for  so  many  years 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  think  and  speak  as 
one  of  the  heavenly  host. 

Spriggs'  victim  of  the  previous  day  was  in 
bed,  complaining  much  of  a  misery  in  back  and 
head  and  limbs. 

"  De  doctah  hab  been  heyah,"  she  said,  "  *nJ 
lefE  me  dese  powdahs  to  take,"  drawing  a  tiny 
package  from  under  her  pillow. 

Elsie  spoke  soothingly  to  her  ;  said  she  should 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  §2 

have  some  broth  from  the  house,  and  should  be 
excused  from  work  till  the  doctor  pronounced 
her  quite  fit  for  it  again ;  and  left  her  appar- 
ently quite  happy. 

It  was  the  intention  of  our  friends  to  spend 
some  weeks  at  Yiamede. 

"I  want  you  to  have  every  possible  enjoy- 
ment while  here,  my  darling,"  Mr.  Dinsmoie 
said,  as  they  sat  together  resting  after  their  ride, 
in  the  wide  veranda  at  the  front  of  the  house, 
looking  out  over  the  beautiful  lawn,  the  bayou, 
and  the  lovely  scenery  beyond.  "There  are 
pleasant  neighbors  who  will  doubtless  call  when 
they  hear  of  our  arrival." 

"I  almost  wish  they  may  not  hear  of  it  then," 
Elsie  said  half  laughing  ;  "  I  just  want  to  be  left 
free  from  the  claims  of  society  for  this  short 
time,  that  I  may  fully  enjoy  being  alone  with  my 
father  and  attending  to  the  comfort  of  my  peo- 
ple. But  excuse  me,  dear  papa,  I  fear  I  inter- 
rupted you." 

"  I  excuse  you  on  condition  that  you  are  not 
again  guilty  of  such  a  breach  of  good  manners. 
I  was  going  on  to  say  there  are  delightful  drives 
and  walks  in  the  vicinity,  of  which  I  hope  we 
wDl  be  able  to  make  good  use  ;  also,  we  will  have 
a  row  now  and  then  on  the  bayou,  and  many  an 
hour  of  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  contents  of  the 
library." 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  hope  so  ;  I  do  so  enjoy  a  nice 
5* 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

otttik  especially  when  read  with  yoti.  Bat  I 
thii  k  that,  for  the  present  at  least,  I  must  spend 
a  pa*  t  of  each  day  in  attending  to  the  prepara- 
tion vf  winter  clothing  for  house-servanta  and 
Sold  h*nds." 

"I  von't  have  you  doing  the  actual  work, 
,he  cutting  cut  and  sewing,  I  mean,"  he  answered 
decidedly  ■  '  the  head  work,  calculating  how 
much  mateiial  is  needed,  what  it  will  cost,  etc., 
may  be  you* « ;  but  you  have  servants  enough  to 
do  all  the  resC." 

"  But,  pa]sd,  consider  ;  over  three  hundred  to 
clothe,  and  I  want  it  all  done  while  I  am  here  to 
oversee. " 

"  Have  not  some  of  the  house-servants  been 
trained  as  seamstresses  ? ' 

"  Yes,  sir,  two  of  them,  mammy  tells  me." 

"  Very  well ;  she  knows  how  to  run  a  sewing- 
machine.  Send  for  one  when  you  order  your 
material  ;  both  can  be  had  in  the  nearest  town. 
Aunt  Chloe  can  soon  teach  the  girls  how  to  man- 
age it ;  Uncle  Joe,  too ;  he  has  had  no  regular 
work  assigned  him  yet,  and  the  four  can  certainly 
do  all  without  anything  more  than  a  little  over- 
sight from  you  ;  yes,  without  even  that." 

"  What  a  capital  planner  you  are,  papa,"  she 
Baid  brightly ;  "  I  never  thought  of  getting  a 
machine  or  setting  Uncle  Joe  to  running  it ;  but 
I'm  sure  it's  just  the  thing  to  do.  Mammy  can 
cut  and  the  girls  baste,  and  among  them  the  ma- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  S3 

chine  can  easily  be  kept  going  from  morning  to 
night.  I'll  make  out  my  orders  and  send  for  the 
things  at  once." 

"  That  is  right,  daughter  ;  it  pleases  me  weD 
to  note  how  you  put  in  practice  the  lesson  of 
promptness  I  have  always  tried  to  teach  you.  I 
will  help  you  in  making  your  estimate  of  quan- 
tities needed,  prices  to  be  paid,  etc.,  and  I  think 
we  can  accomplish  the  whole  before  dinner. 
Come  to  the  library  and  let  us  to  work." 

"  You  dear,  kind  father,  always  trying  to  help 
me  and  smooth  the  least  roughness  out  of  my 
path,  and  make  life  as  enjoyable  to  me  as  possi- 
ble," she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm  and 
looking  up  into  his  face  with  eyes  beaming  with 
filial  love,  as  they  rose  and  stood  together  fo^ 
a  moment. 

"A  good  daughter  deserves  a  good  father/' 
he  answered,  smoothing  with  soft  caressing 
motion  the  shining  hair.  "But  have  you  the 
necessary  data  for  our  estimates  ?  " 

"  The  number  to  be  clothed,  papa  ?  I  know 
how  many  house-servants,  how  many  babies  and 
older  children  at  the  quitrter,  but  not  the 
number  of  field  hands." 

"  That  will  be  easily  ascertained.  I  will  send 
a  note  to  Spriggs,  who  can  tell  us  all  about  it" 

Mr.  Dinsniore's  plans  were  carried  out  to  the 
letter,  and  with  entire  success.  This  was  Satur- 
day ;  the  orders  were  sent  that  afternoon,  and  on 


54  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Monday  morning  the  work  began.  Aunt  Ohloe 
proved  fully  equal  to  the  cutting  of  the  gar- 
ments, and  Uncle  Joe  an  apt  scholar  under  her 
patient,  loving  teaching,  and  a  willing  workor  at 
his  new  employment.  There  was  scarcely  need 
of  even  oversight  on  the  part  of  the  young  mis- 
tress. She  would  drop  in  occasionally,  commend 
their  industry,  and  inquire  if  anything  were 
wanting ;  then  felt  free  for  books,  rides  or  walks, 
music  or  conversation  with  her  father. 

But  she  was  often  down  at  the  quarter  visit- 
ing the  sick,  the  aged  and  infirm,  seeing  that 
their  wants  were  supplied,  reading  the  Bible  to 
them,  praying  with  them,  telling  of  the  better 
land  where  no  trouble  or  sorrow  can  come,  and 
trying  to  make  the  way  to  it,  through  the  shed 
blood  of  Christ,  very  plain  and  clear.  Then  she 
would  gather  the  children  about  her  and  tell 
them  of  the  blessed  Jesus  and  his  love  for  little 
ones. 

"  Does  he  lub  niggahs,  missus  ?  "  queried  one 
grinning  little  woolly  head. 

"  Yes,  if  they  love  him  :  and  they  won't  be 
asgroes  in  heaven." 

"  White  folks,  missus  ?  Oh,  datnice  !  Gaess 
[  go  dar  ;  ef  dey  let  me  in." 

B:t  we  are  anticipating  somewhat,  though 
Elsie  found  time  for  a  short  visit  to  the  sick  and 
and  aged  on  the  afternoon  of  even  that  first  day 
at  Viamede.     The  next  was  the  Sabbath,  and  as 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  B5 

lovely  a  day  as  coUd  be  desired.  The  horses 
were  ordered  for  an  early  ^our,  and.  father  and 
daughter  rode  some  miles  together  to  morning 
service,  then  home  again. 

As  the  shadows  began  to  lengthen  in  the 
afternoon,  Elsie  was  sitting  alone  on  the  veranda, 
her  father  having  left  her  side  but  a  moment 
before,  when  an  old  negro,  familiarly  known  as 
Uncle  Ben,  came  round  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  slowly  approached  her. 

Very  sweet  and  fair,  very  beautiful  she  looked 
to  his  admiring  eyes.  She  held  a  Bible  in  her 
hand,  and  was  so  intent  upon  its  perusal  that  she 
vas  not  aware  of  his  coming  until  he  had  drawn 
c^uite  near.  Ascending  the  steps,  and  standing 
at  a  respectful  distance,  hat  in  hand,  he  waited 
till  she  should  notice  and  address  him. 

Glancing  up  from  her  book,  "Ah,  Uncle  Ben, 
good  evening,"  she  said.  "  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"  Missus,"  he  answered,  making  a  low  salam, 
"  all  de  darkeys  is  gadered  togedder  under  a  tree 
'round  de  house  yondah,  and  dey  'pint  me  com- 
mittee to  come  an'  ax  de  young  missus  would  she 
be  so  kind  for  to  come  an'  read  the  Bible  to  dem, 
an'  talk,  an'  pray,  an'  sing  like  she  do  for  de  sick 
ones  down  to  de  quarter  ?  Dey  be  berry  glad, 
missus,  an'  more  dan  obliged." 

"  Indeed  I  will,  uncle,"  Elsie  said,  rising  at 


86  ELSIE  3  WOMANHOOD. 

once  and  going  with  him,  Bible  in  hand  ;  "  I  had 
been  thinking  of  doing  this  very  thing." 

She  found  a  rustic  seat  placed  for  her  under 
a  giant  oak,  and  garlanded  with  fragrant  flowers. 
Aunt  Phillis,  Aunt  Chloe,  Uncle  Joe,  and  the 
rest  of  the  house-servants,  gathered  in  a  semi- 
circle around  it,  while  beyond,  the  men,  women, 
and  children  from  the  quarter  sat  or  lay  upon  the 
grass,  enjoying  the  rest  from  the  toils  of  the 
week,  the  quiet,  the  balmy  air  laden  with  the 
fragrance  of  the  magnolia  and  orange,  and  all 
the  sweet  sights  and  sounds  of  rural  life  in  that 
favored  region. 

Every  one  rose  at  the  appearance  of  their 
young  mistress,  and  there  were  murmurs  of 
delight  and  gratitude  coming  from  all  sides. 
"  Now  bress  de  Lord,  she  read  the  good  book  for 
us."  "She  good  an'  lubly  as  de  angels." 
"  Missus  berry  kind,  de  darkeys  neber  forget." 

Elsie  acknowledged  it  all  with  a  smile  and  a 
few  kindly  words,  then  commanding  silence  by  a 
slight  motion  of  the  hand,  addressed  them  in  a 
clear,  melodious  voice,  which,  though  not  loud, 
could  be  distinctly  heard  by  every  one  of  the  now 
almost  breathless  listeners. 

"  I  shall  read  to  you  of  Jesus  and  some  of  his 
own  words,"  she  said,  "but  first  we  will  ask  him 
to  help  us  to  understand,  to  love,  and  to  obey  hi* 
teachings." 

Then  folding  her  hands  and  lifting  her  eyes 


ELB1E'8  WOMANHOOD.  8? 

to  the  clear  blue  sky  above,  she  led  them  in  a 
prayer  so  simple  and  childlike,  so  filial  and  loving 
in  spirit  and  expression,  that  the  dullest  under- 
stood it,  and  felt  that  she  spoke  to  One  who  was 
very  near  and  dear  to  her. 

After  that  she  read  with  the  same  distinct 
utterance  the  third  chapter  of  John's  Gospel,  and 
commented  briefly  upon  it.  "  You  all  want  to 
go  to  heaven  ?  "  she  said,  closing  the  book. 

"Yes,  Miss  Elsie."  "Yes  missus,  we  all 
does." 

But  to  be  able  to  go  there  you  must  know  the 
way,  and  now  I  want  to  make  sure  that  you  do 
know  it.  Can  you  tell  me  what  you  must  do  to 
be  saved  ?  " 

There  were  various  answers,  "Be  good." 
"  Mine  de  rules  an'  do  'bout  right."  "  Pray  to 
de  Lord,"  etc.,  etc. 

Elsie  shook  her  head  gravely.  "All  that  you 
must  do,  and  more  besides.  What  does  Jesus 
say  ?  '  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his 
only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.' 
We  must  believe  in  Jesus — believe  all  that  the 
Bible  tells  us  about  him,  that  he  was  very  God 
and  very  man,  that  ho  came  down  from  heaven, 
was  born  a  little  babe  and  laid  in  a  manger,  that 
he  grew  up  to  be  a  man,  went  abc  at  doing  good, 
and  at  last  suffered  and  died  the  cruel  death  oi 
the  cross  \  anl  all  to  save  poor  lost  sinners. 


88  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  But  even  that  is  not  enough  :  the  devilfi 
believe  so  much  ;  they  know  it  is  all  true.  But 
beside  this,  we  must  believe  on  Christ  Jesus, 
He  offers  to  be  our  Saviour.     'Come  unto  me 

.  and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  '  Him  that  cometh 
unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  And  you 
must  come,  you  must  take  the  eternal  life  he 
offers  you ;  you  must  rest  on  him  and  him  only. 

"  Suppose  you  were  out  on  the  bayou  yonder, 
and  the  boat  should  upset  and  float  beyond  your 
reach,  or  be  swept  away  from  you  by  the  wind 
and  waves,  and  you  couldn't  swim ;  but  just  as 
you  are  sinking,  you  find  a  plank  floating  near ; 
you  catch  hold  of  it,  you  find  it  strong  and  large 
enough  to  bear  your  weight,  and  you  throw  your- 
self upon  it  and  cling  to  it  for  life.  Just  so  you 
must  cast  yourself  on  Jesus,  and  cling  to  him 
with  all  your  strength  ;  and  he  will  save  you ; 
for  he  is  able  and  willing  '  to  save  to  the  utter- 
most all  that  come  unto  God  by  him., 

"  He  will  wash  away  your  sins  in  his  own 
precious  blood,  and  dress  you  in  the  beautiful 
robe  of  his  perfect  righteousness  ;  that  is,  set  hie 
goodness  to  your  account,  so  that  you  will  be 
saved  just  as  if  you  had  been  as  good  and  holy  as 
ho  was.  Then  you  will  love  him  and  try  to  do 
right  to  please  him  ;  not  to  buy  heaven ;  you 
cannot  do  that,  for  '  all  our  righteousnesses  are 
as  filthy  rags/  and  we  cannot  be  saved  unless  we 

trust  only  in  Jesus  and  his  righteousness," 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  89 

Something  in  the  faces  before  her  caused 
Elsie  to  turn  her  head.  Her  father  stood  with 
graye,  quiet  air,  but  a  few  feet  from  her. 

"Papa/'  she  said,  in  an  undertone,  and 
blushing  slightly,  "I  did  not  know  you  were 
here.  Will  you  not  speak  to  them  ?  you  can  do 
it  so  much  better  than  I." 

She  sat  down,  and  stepping  to  her  side  he 
made  a  brief  and  simply  worded  address  on  the 
necessity  of  repentance  and  faith  in  Jesus,  "  the 
only  Saviour  of  sinners,"  his  willingness  to  saye 
all  who  came  to  him,  and  the  great  danger  of 
delay  in  coming.  Then  with  a  short  prayer  and 
the  singing  of  a  hymn,  they  were  dismissed. 

With  murmured  thanks  and  many  a  backward 
look  of  admiring  loye  at  their  already  almost 
idolized  young  mistress,  and  her  father,  who  had 
won  their  thorough  respect  and  affection  years 
ago,  they  scattered  to  their  homes. 

"  You  must  haye  a  shawl  and  hat,  for  the 
air  begins  to  grow  cool,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  to 
his  daughter. 

"  Yes,  massa,  Fse  brought  dem,"  said  Chloe^ 
hurrying  up  almost  out  of  breath,  with  the 
required  articles  in  her  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  mammy,  you  are  always  careful 
of  your  nursling ; "  Elsie  said,  smilingly,  as  the 
shawl  was  wrapped  carefully  about  her  shoulders 
and  the  hat  placed  upon  her  head* 


90  ELSIE  8  WOMANHOOD, 

Her  father  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm  and 
led  her  across  the  lawn. 

"  There  is  one  spot,  very  dear  to  us  both, 
which  we  have  not  yet  visited, "  he  said,  low  and 
feelingly,"  and  I  have  rather  wondered  at  your 
delay  in  asking  me  to  take  you  there." 

She  understood  him.  "  Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  "1 
should  have  done  so  last  evening,  but  that  you 
looked  weary.  It  has  hardly  been  out  of  my 
mind  since  we  came,  and  I  have  only  waited  for 
a  suitable  time." 

"None  could  be  better  than  the  present,"  he 
answered. 

On  a  gently  sloping  hillside,  and  beneath  the 
shade  of  a  beautiful  magnolia,  they  found  what 
they  sought :  a  grave,  with  a  headstone  on 
which  was  carved  the  inscription  : 

"  Pell  asleep  in  Jesus, 

March  15,  18—, 

Elsie,  Wifs  o?  Horace  Dinsmobb, 

and  only  remaining  child  of 

Wellulk  akd  Elsfeth  Ghatsoh, 

Aged  16  years,  and  2  weeks. 

'Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.'  *• 

They  read  it  standing  side  by  side. 

"  How  young,"  murmured  the  daughter,  tears 
filling  her  eyes,  "how  young  to  be  a  wife,  a 
mother,  and  to  die  and  leave  husband  and  child  1 
Oh,  papa,  how  I  used  to  long  for  her,  and  dream 
of  her — my  own  precious  mamma  ! " 

"  When,  my  darling  ? "  he  asked  in  moved 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  91 

tones,  drawing  her  tenderly  to  him  and  passing  an 
arm  abont  her  waist. 

"  Before  I  knew  ycra,  papa,  and  before  yon 
began  to  love  me  60  dearly  and  be  father  and 
mother  both,  to  me,  as  you  hare  been  for  so  many 
years."  The  low,  sweet  voice  was  tremulous  with 
emotion,  and  the  soft  eyes  lifted  to  his  were 
brimming  oyer  with  tears  of  mingled  grief  and 
joy,  gratitude  and  loye. 

"I  have  tried  to  he,"  he  said  ;  " but  no  one 
could  supply  her  place.  What  a  loving,  tender 
mother  she  would  have  been  !  But  let  us  forget 
our  loss  in  the  bliss  of  knowing  that  it  is  so  well 
with  her." 

It  was  a  family  burying-ground ;  there  were 
other  graves  ;  those  of  our  Elsie's  grandparents, 
and  several  of  their  sons  and  daughters  who  had 
died  in  infancy  or  early  youth  ;  and  in  the  midst 
uprose  a  costly  monument,  placed  there  by  Mr. 
Grayson  after  the  death  of  his  wife.  The  spot 
showed  the  oame  care  as  the  rest  of  the  estate, 
and  was  lovely  with  roses  and  other  sweet  flow- 
ers and  shrubs. 

"My  mother's  grave!"  said  Elsie,  bending 
over  it  again.  "  Papa,  let  us  kneel  down  beside 
it  and  pray  that  we  may  meet  her  in  heaven." 

He  at  once  complied  with  the  request,  giving 
thanks  for  the  quiet  rest  of  her  who  slept  in 
Jesus,  and  asking  that,  when  each  of  them  had 
done  and  suffered  all  God's  boly  will  here  on 


9fc  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

earth,  they  might  be  reunited  to  her  above,  and 
join  in  her  glad  song  of  praise  to  redeeming  love. 

Elsie  joined  fervently  in  the  "  Amen,"  and 
rising,  they  lingered  a  moment  longer,  then 
wended  their  way  in  sweet  and  solemn  silence  to 
the  house. 

They  sat  together  in  the  library  after  tea, 
each  occupied  with  a  book.  But  Elsie  seemed 
little  interested  in  hers,  looking  o3  the  page 
now  and  then,  as  if  in  deep  and  troubled  thought 
At  length  closing  it,  she  stole  round  to  the  side 
of  her  father's  easy  chair,  and  taking  possession 
of  a  footstool,  laid  her  head  on  his  knee. 

"  I  have  my  little  girl  again  to-night,"  he 
said,  passing  his  hand  caressingly  oyer  her  hair 
and  cheek. 

"  I  almost  wish  it  was,  papa." 

"  Why  ?  is  anything  troubling  you,  dearest  ?  " 
And  he  pushed  his  book  aside,  ready  to  give  hia 
whole  attention  to  her. 

"  I  am  anxious  about  my  poor  people,  papa  ; 
they  are  so  ignorant  of  the  truths  necessary  to 
salvation ;  and  what  can  I  teach  them  in  three 
or  four  weeks  ?  I  have  almost  decided  that  I 
ought — that  I  must  stay  as  many  months." 

"And  that  without  eyen  consulting  your 
father  ?  much  less  considering  his  permission 
necessary  to  your  action  ?  "  Though  the  words 
seemed  to  convey  reproach,  if  not  reproof,  his 
tone  was  gentle  and  tender 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  93 

"  No,  no,  papa  !  I  must  cease  to  think  it  my 
duty  if  you  forbid  it." 

"As  I  do  most  positively.  /  cannot  stay; 
and  I  should  never  think  for  a  moment  of  leaving 
you  here  ! " 

"  But,  papa,  how  then  am  I  to  do  my  duty 
by  these  poor  ignorant  creatures  ?  how  can  I  let 
them  perish  for  lack  of  knowledge  whom  Christ 
has  put  into  my  care  ?  " 

"  Procure  a  chaplain,  who  shall  hold  regular 
services  for  them  every  Sabbath,  and  do  pastoral 
work  among  them  through  the  week.  You  will 
not  grudge  him  his  salary. " 

"  Papa,  what  an  excellent  idea  !  Grudge  him 
his  salary  ?  No,  indeed ;  if  I  can  get  the  right 
man  to  fill  the  place,  he  shall  have  a  liberal  one. 
And  then  he  will  be  a  check  upon  Mr.  Spriggs, 
and  inform  me  if  the  people  are  abused.  But 
how  shall  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  do  when  in  want  of  some- 
thing you  do  not  know  exactly  how  to  procure  ?  " 

"Pray  for  direction  and  help,"  she  answered, 
low  and  reverently. 

"  We  will  both  do  that,  asking  that  the  .right 
man  may  be  sent  us  ;  and  I  will  write  to-morrow 
to  some  of  the  presidents  of  the  theological 
seminaries,  asking  them  to  recommend  some  one 
suited  for  the  place." 

"  Papa,"  she  cried,  lifting  a  very  bright  face  to 
his,  "  what  a  load  you  have  taken  from  mr  miixd^ 


Cljapte  <2%jj% 


"  A  mighty  pain  to  lore  It  1b 
And  'tis  a  pain  that  pain  to  misa  ; 
Bnt  of  all  palng,  the  greatest  pain 
It  Is  to  love,  but  lore  in  vain." 

—Cowley. 

Oke  lovely  afternoon  in  the  second  week  oi 
their  stay  at  Viamede,  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  liis 
daughter  were  seated  in  the  shade  of  the  trees 
on  the  lawn,  she  busied  with  some  fancy-work 
while  her  father  read  aloud  to  her. 

As  he  paused  to  turn  a  leaf,  "Papa,"  she 
said,  glancing  off  down  the  bayou,  "  there  is  a 
steamer  coming,  the  same  that  brought  us,  I 
think  ;  and  see,  it  is  rounding  to  at  our  landing. 
Can  it  be  bringing  us  a  guest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  gentleman  is  stepping  ashore.  Why, 
daughter,  it  is  Harold  Allison. " 

"  Harold  !  oh,  how  delightful ! "  And  rising 
tbey  hastened  to  meet  and  welcome  him  with 
Sruly  Southern  warmth  of  hospitality. 

"  Harold  !  how  good  of  you  1 "  cried  Elsie. 
*  Mamma  wrote  us  that  you  were  somewhere  in 
&is  region,  and  if  I'd  had  your  address,  I  should 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  95 

have  sent  you  an  invitation  to  come  and  stay  aa 
long  as  possible." 

--'  And  you  have  done  well  and  kindly  by  us 
to  come  without  waiting  for  that,"  Mr.  Dins- 
more  said,  shaking  the  hand  of  his  young  broth- 
er-in-law with  a  warmth  of  cordiality  that  said 
more  than  his  words. 

"Many  thanks  to  you  both/5  he  answered 
gayly.  "  I  was  conceited  enough  to  feel  sure  of 
a  welcome,  and  did  not  wait,  as  a  more  modest 
fellow  might,  to  be  invited.  But  what  a  lovely 
place  !  a  paradise  upon  earth  !  And,  Elsie,  you, 
in  those  dainty  white  robes,  look  the  fit  presid- 
ing genius." 

Elsie  laughed  and  shook  her  head.  u  Don't 
turn  flatterer,  Harold ;  though  I  do  not  object  to 
praise  of  Viamede." 

"  I  have  not  heard  from  Eose  in  a  long  time," 
he  said,  addressing  Mr.  Dmsmore.  "She  and 
the  little  folks  are  well,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  letter  this  morning,  and  they  were 
all  in  good  health  when  it  was  written." 

The  servants  had  come  trooping  down  from 
the  house,  and  seizing  Harold's  baggage  had  it 
already  in  the  guest  chamber  to  which  Aunt 
Phillis  ordered  it.  Aunt  Ohloe  now  drew  near 
to  pay  her  respects  to  "  Massa  Harold,"  and  toll 
him  that  his  room  was  ready. 

"  Will  you  go  to  it  at  once  ?  or  sit  down  hait 


96  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

and  have  a  little  chat  with  papa  and  me  first  F  ** 
asked  Elsie. 

"  Thank  you ;  I  think  I  shall  defer  the 
pleasure  of  the  chat  till  I  have  first  made  myseli 
presentable  for  the  evening." 

"  Then  let  me  conduct  you  to  your  room, 
said    Mr.    Dinsmore,   leading  the  way  to    the 
house. 

Elsie  had  come  in  the  course  of  years  to  look 
upon  the  older  brothers  of  her  stepmother  as  in 
some  sort  her  uncles,  but  for  Harold,  who  was  so 
much  nearer  her  own  age,  she  entertained  a 
sincere  sisterly  regard.  And  he  was  worthy  of 
it  and  of  the  warm  place  his  many  noble  qualities 
had  won  for  him  in  Mr.  Dinsmore's  heart. 

They  did  all  they  could  to  make  his  visit  to 
Viamede  a  pleasant  one  ;  there  were  daily  rides 
and  walks,  moonlight  and  early  morning  excur- 
sions on  the  bayou,  rowing  parties  ;  oftenest  of  the 
three  alone,  but  sometimes  in  company  with  gal- 
lant chivalrous  men  and  refined,  cultivated  women 
and  charming  young  girls  from  the  neighboring 
plantations. 

One  of  these  last,  a  beautiful  brunette,  Elsie 
had  selected  in  her  own  mind  for  Harold,  and 
she  contrived  to  throw  them  together  frequently. 

"  Don't  you  admire  Miss  Durand  ? "  she 
asked,  after  they  had  met  several  times.  "I 
think  she  is  lovely ;  as  good,  too,  as  she  is  beau- 
tiful ;  and  would  make  you  a  charming  wife." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  9? 

Hg  flashed  he  try.  "  She  is  very  ban  Isonie, 
very  fascinating  and  talented/'  he  said ;  "  but 
would  never  suit  me.  Nor  do  I  suppose  I  could 
win  her  if  I  wished," 

"  Indeed  I  if  you  are  so  hard  to  please,  I  fear 
there  will  be  nothing  for  you  but  old  bachelor- 
hood/' laughed  Elsie.  "  I  have  picked  her  out 
for  you,  and  I  believe  you  could  win  her  if  you 
tried,  Harold ;  but  I  shall  not  try  to  become  a 
match-maker." 

"  No,  I  must  select  for  myself  ;  I  couldn't  let 
even  you  choose  for  me. " 

"  Choose  what  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  step- 
ping out  upon  the  veranda,  where  Harold  stood 
leaning  against  a  vine-wreathed  pillar,  his  blue 
eyes  fixed  with  a  sort  of  wistful,  longing  look 
upon  Elsie's  graceful  figure  and  fair  face,  as  she 
gat  in  a  half -reclining  posture  on  a  low  couch  but 
a  few  feet  from  him. 

"  A  wife,"  he  answered,  compelling  himself 
to  speak  lightly. 

"  Don't  let  her  do  %"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
taking  a  seat  by  Mp  daughter's  side  ;  "  IVe 
warned  ner  more  '  iiar*  once  not  to  meddle  with 
match-making. '  And  he  shook  his  head  at  her 
with  mock  gravity. 

"  I  won't  any  more,  papa  ;  111  leave  him  to 
his  own  devices,  since  he  shows  himself  so  un- 
grateful for  my  interest  in  his  welfare,"  Elaio 


98  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

aaid,  looking  first  at  her  father  and  then  at 
Harold  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  °ye. 

"1  don't  think  I've  asked  how  you  like  your 
new  homo  and  prospects,  Harold,"  said  Mr.  Dins- 
more,  changing  the  subject. 

"  Very  much,  thank  you  ;  except  that  they 
£ake  me  po  far  from  the  rest  of  the  family." 

A  fe^v  months  before  this  Harold  had  met 
with  a  pieue  of  rare  good  fortune,  looked  at  from 
a  worldly  point  of  view,  in  being  adopted  as  his 
gole  heir  by  a  rich  and  childless  Louisiana  plant- 
ter,  a  distant  relative  of  Mrs.  Allison. 

"  Ah,  that  is  an  objection,"  returned  Mr. 
Dinsmore ;  "but  you  will  be  forming  new  and 
closer  ties,  that  will  doubtless  go  far  to  compen- 
sate for  the  partial  loss  of  the  old.  I  hope  you 
are  enjoying  yourself  here  ?  " 

"I  am  indeed,  thank  you,"  This  answer 
3ras  true,  yet  Harold  felt  himself  flush  as  he 
dpoke,  for  there  was  one  serious  drawback  upon 
his  felicity  ;  he  could  seldom  get  a  word  alone 
with  Elsie  ;  she  and  her  father  were  so  insepara- 
ble that  he  scarcely  saw  the  one  without  the 
other.  And  Harold  strongly  coveted  an  occa- 
sional monopoly  of  the  sweet  girl's  society.  He 
had  come  to  Viamede  with  a  purpose  entirely 
unsuspected  by  her  or  her  apparently  vigilant 
guardian. 

He  should  perhaps,  have  confided  his  secret 
feo  Mr,  Dinsmore  first,  but  his  heart  failed  him  ; 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  9S 

&nd  "what  would  be  the  use  ?"  he  asked  him- 
self "  if  Elsie  is  not  willing  ?  Ah,  if  I  could 
but  be  alone  with  her  for  an  hour  1 " 

The  coveted  opportunity  offered  itself  at  last^ 
quite  unexpectedly.  Coming  out  upon  the  ve- 
randa  one  afternoon,  he  saw  Elsie  sitting  alone 
under  a  tree  far  down  on  the  lawn.  He  hastened 
toward  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  looking  up 
with  a  smile  and  making  room  for  him  on  the 
seat  by  her  side.  "  You  see  I  am  '  lone  and  lorn,' 
Mr.  Durand  having  carried  oU  papa  to  look  at  some 
new  improvement  in  his  sugar-house  machinery." 

"Ah  !  and  when  will  your  father  return  ?" 

"In  about  an  hour,  I  presume.  Shall  you 
attend  Aunt  Adie's  wedding  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  Don't  you  sometimes  feel 
as  if  you'd  like  to  stay  here  altogether  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  no  ;  it's  very  lovely,  and  the  more 
charming  I  believe,  because  it  is  my  own ;  but 
— there  is  so  much  more  to  bind  me  to  the  Oaks, 
and  I  could  never  live  far  away  from  papa." 

"  Couldn't  you  ?  I  hoped— Oh,  Elsie,  couldn't 
you  possibly  love  some  one  else  better  even  than 
you  love  him  ?  You're  more  to  me  than  father, 
mother,  and  all  the  world  beside.  I  have  wanted 
to  tell  you  so  for  years,  but  while  I  was  compara- 
tively poor  your  fortune  sealed  my  lips.  Now  I 
am  rich,  and  I  lay  all  I  have  at  your  feet ;  my 
lelf  included ;  and — " 


100  ELSIE'S  WOMAAIIOOD. 

"  Oh  Harold,  Inish  ! n  she  cried  in  trembling 
tones,  flushing  and  paling  by  turns,  and  putting 
up  her  hand  a3  if  to  stop  the  torrent  of  words  he 
was  pouring  forth  so  unexpectedly  that  astonish- 
ment had  struck  her  dumb  for  an  instant ;  "  oh  ! 
don't  say  any  more,  I — I  thought  you  surely 
knew  that — that  I  am  already  engaged." 

"No.  To  whom?"  he  asked  hoarsely,  hia 
face  pale  as  death,  and  lips  quivering  so  that  he 
could  scarcely  speak. 

"  To  Mr.  Travilla.  It  has  been  only  for  a 
few  weeks,  though  we  have  loved  each  other  for 
years.  Oh,  Harold,  Harold,  do  not  look  so 
wretched  !  you  break  my  heart,  for  I  love  you  as 
a  very  dear  brother." 

He  turned  away  with  a  groan,  and  without 
another  word  hastened  back  to  the  house,  while 
Elsie,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  shed 
some  very  bitter  tears. 

Heart-broken,  stunned,  feeling  as  if  every 
good  thing  in  life  had  suddenly  slipped  from  his 
grasp,  Harold  sought  his  room,  mechanically 
garnered  up  his  few  effects,  packed  them  into 
his  valise,  then  sat  down  by  the  open  window 
and  leant  his  head  upon  his  hand. 

He  couldn't  think,  he  could  on]y  feel  that  ail 
was  lost,  and  that  he  mu3t  go  away  at  once,  if  he 
would  not  have  every  body  know  it,  and  make 
the  idol  of  his  heart  miserable  with  the  sight  of 
his  wretchedness. 


ELSIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  101 

Why  had  he  not  "known  of  her  engagement  ? 
Why  had  no  one  told  him  ?  Why  had  he  been 
such  a  fool  as  to  suppose  he  could  win  so  great 
a  prize  ?  He  was  not  worthy  of  her.  How 
plainly  he  saw  it  now,  how  sorely  repented  of 
the  conceit  that  had  led  him  on  to  the  avowal  of 
his  passion. 

He  had  a  vague  recollection  that  a  boat  was 
to  pass  that  afternoon.  He  would  take  passage 
in  that,  and  he  hoped  Mr.  Dinsmore's  return 
might  be  delayed  till  he  was  gone.  He  would 
away  without  another  word  to  Elsie  ;  she  should 
not  be  disturbed  by  any  further  unmanly  mani- 
festation of  his  bitter  grief  and  despair. 

The  hour  of  the  passing  of  the  boat  drew 
near,  and  valise  in  hand,  he  left  his  room  and 
passed  down  the  stairs.  But  Elsie  was  coming 
in  from  the  lawn,  and  they  met  in  the  lower  hall. 

"  Harold,"  she  cried,  "you  are  not  going? 
You  must  not  leave  us  so  suddenly." 

"  I  must,"  he  said  in  icy  tones,  the  stony  eyes 
gazing  into  vacancy  ;  "  all  places  are  alike  to  me 
now,  and  I  cannot  stay  here  to  trouble  you  and 
Horace  with  the  sight  of  a  wretchedness  I  can- 
not hide." 

Trembling  so  that  she  could  scarcely  stand. 
Elsie  leaned  against  the  wall  for  support,  the 
hot  tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks.  'Oh, 
Harold  !"  she  sobbed,  "what  an  unhappy  crea- 
ture I  am  to  have  been  the  cause  of  such  sorrow 


102  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

to  you  !    Oh  why  should  you  eyer  have  thoughi 
of  me  so  ?  " 

Dropping  his  valise,  his  whole  manner 
changing,  he  turned  to  her  with  passionate 
vehemence.  i(  Because  I  couldn't  help  it !  Even 
as  a  boy  I  gave  up  my  whole  heart  to  you,  and  1 
cannot  call  it  back.  Oh,  Elsie,  why  did  I  evei 
see  you  ? "  and  he  seized  both  her  hands  in  a 
grasp  that  almost  forced  a  cry  of  pain  from  her 
white,  quivering  lips.  "  Life  is  worthless  without 
you,  I'd  rather  die  knowing  that  you  loved  me 
than  live  to  see  you  in  possession  of  another." 

"  Harold,  Harold,  a  sister's  love  I  can,  I  do 
give  you  ;  and  can  you  not  be  content  with 
that?" 

"  A  Bister's  love  ! "  he  repeated  scornfully. 
"  OSer  a  cup  with  a  drop  of  water  in  it,  to  a  man 
perishing,  dying  with  thirst.  Yes,  I'm  going 
away,  I  care  not  whither  ;  all  places  are  alike  to 
him  who  has  lost  all  interest  in  life." 

He  threw  her  hands  from  him  almost  witn 
violence,  half  turned  away,  then  suddenly  catch- 
ing her  in  his  arms,  held  her  close  to  his  heart, 
kissing  passionately,  forehead,  cheek,  and  lips. 
"Oh,  Elsie,  Elsie,  light  of  my  eyes,  core  of  my 
heart,  why  did  we  ever  meet  to  part  like  this  ? 
I  don't  blame  you.  I  have  been  a  fool.  Good- 
by,  darling."  And  releasing  her,  he  was  gone 
ere  she  could  recover  breath  to  speak.  It  had 
all  been  so  sudden  she  had  hud  no  power,  per* 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  108 

haps  no  will,  to  resist,  so  sore  was  the  tender, 
loving  heart  for  him. 

He  was  barely  in  time  to  hail  the  boat  as  it 
passed,  and  at  the  instant  he  was  about  to  step 
aboard,  Mr,  Dinsmore  rode  up,  and  springing 
from  the  saddle,  throwing  the  reins  to  his  servant, 
cried  out  in  astonishment,  " Harold!  you  are 
not  leaving  us  ?  Come,  come,  what  has  hap- 
pened to  hurry  you  away.     Must  you  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  must,'3  he  answered  hoarsely  and 
with  half -averted  face.  "  Don't  call  me  a  scoun- 
drel for  making  such  a  return  for  your  hospital- 
ity. I  couldn't  help  it.  Good-by.  Try  to 
forget  that  I've  been  here  at  all ;  for  Rose's  sake, 
you  know." 

He  sprang  into  the  boat ;  it  pushed  off,  and 
was  presently  lost  to  sight  among  the  trees  shad- 
ing the  bayou  on  either  hand. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  spell- 
bound ;  then  turned  and  walked  thoughtfully 
toward  the  house.  "  What  did  it  all  mean  ? " 
he  asked  himself  ;  "  of  what  unkind  return  of  his 
or  Elsie's  hospitality  could  the  lad  have  been 
guilty  ?  Elsie  I  ha !  can  it  be  possible  ? "  and 
quickened  his  pace,  glancing  from  side  to  side  in 
search  of  her  as  lie  hurried  on. 

Entering  the  hall,  the  sound  of  a  half-smoth- 
8red  sob  guided  him  to  a  little  parlor  or  reception- 
room  seldom  used.  Softly  he  opened  the  door. 
She  was  there  half -reclining  upon  a  3ofa,  her 


104  ELSTE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

face  buried  in  its  cushions.  In  a  moment  he  had 
her  in  his  arms,  the  weary,  aching  head  on  his 
breast,  while  he  tenderly  wiped  away  the  fast- 
f ailing  tears. 

"  My  poor  darling,  my  poor  little  pet,  don't 
take  it  so  to  heart.  It  is  nothing  ;  he  will  proba- 
bly get  over  it  before  he  is  a  month  older." 

"  Papa,  is  it  my  fault  ?  did  I  give  him  undue 
encouragement  ?  am  I  a  coquette  ?  "  she  sobbed, 

"  Far  from  it !  did  he  dare  to  call  you 
that  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  oh,  no  ;  he  said  he  did  not  blame 
me  ;  it  was  all  his  own  folly." 

"Ah!  I  think  the  better  of  him  for  that; 
though  'twas  no  more  than  just." 

"I  thought  he  knew  of  my  engagement." 

"  So  did  I.  And  the  absurdity  of  the  :hing  ! 
Such  a  mixture  of  relationships  as  it  would  have 
been  !  I  should  never  have  entertained  the 
thought  for  a  moment.  And  he  ought  to  have 
spoken  to  me  first,  and  spared  you  all  this.  No, 
you  needn't  fret ;  he  deserves  all  he  suffers,  for 
what  he  has  inflicted  upon  you,  my  precious 
one." 

"  I  hardly  think  that,  papa ;  he  was  very 
generous  to  take  all  the  blame  to  himself  ;  but 
oh,  you  have  eased  my  heart  of  half  its  load. 
What  should  I  ever  do  without  you,  my  own  dear, 
dear  father ! " 

The  pleasure  of  our  friends,  during  ths  resl 


ELSIE' S  WOMANHOOD.  105 

of  then  stay  at  Viamede,  was  somewhat  dampened 
by  this  unfortunate  episode,  though  Elsie,  foi 
her  father's  sake,  did  her  best  to  rally  from  its 
effect  on  her  spirits,  and  to  be  cheerful  and  gay 
as  before. 

Long,  bright,  loving,  letters  from  home,  and 
Ion  coming  the  next  day,  were  a  great  help. 
Then  the  next  day  brought  a  chaplain,  who 
seemed  in  all  respects  so  well  suited  to  his  place 
as  to  entirely  relieve  her  mind  in  regard  to  the 
future  welfare  of  her  people.  He  entered  into 
all  her  plans  for  them,  and  promised  to  carry 
them  out  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

So  it  was  with  a  light  heart,  though  not  with- 
out some  lingering  regrets  for  the  sad  one3  and 
the  loveliness  left  behind,  that  she  and  her 
father  set  out  on  their  homeward  way. 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  man  John,  Aunt  Chloe,  and 
Uncle  Joe,  went  with  them ;  and  it  was  a  con- 
tinual feast  for  master  and  mistress  to  see  the 
happiness  of  the  poor  old  couple,  especially 
when  their  grandchild  Dinah,  their  only  living 
descendant  so  far  as  they  could  learn,  was  aided 
to  the  party  ;  Elsie  purchasing  her,  according  to 
promise,  as  they  passed  through  New  Orleans 
on  their  return  trip. 

Dinah  was  very  grateful  to  find  herself 
instaLed  as  assistant  to  her  grandmother,  who, 
Elsio  said,  must  begin  to  take  life  more  easily 
now  in  her  old  age.     Yet  that  Aunt  Chloe  found 


106  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

it  hard  to  do,  for  she  was  very  jealous  of  having 
any  hands  but  her  own  busied  about  the  person 
of  her  idolized  young  mistress. 

A  glad  welcome  awaited  them  at  home,  where 
they  arrived  in  due  season  for  Adelaide's  wed- 
ding. 

Sophie  and  Harry  Carrington  had  returned 
from  their  wedding  trip,  and  were  making  their 
home  with  his  parents,  at  Ashlands  ;  Richard, 
Fred,  and  May  Allison,  came  with  their  brother 
Edward  ;  but  Harold,  who  was  to  meet  them  at 
Roselands,  was  not  there.  He  had  engaged  to 
act  as  second  groomsman,  Richard  being  first, 
and  there  was  much  wondering  over  his  absence  ; 
many  regrets  were  expressed,  and  some  anxiety 
was  felt. 

But  Elsie  and  her  father  kept  their  own 
counsel,  and  breathed  no  word  of  the  episode 
at  Viamede,  which  would  have  explained  all. 

Harold's  coming  was  still  hoped  for  by  the 
others  until  the  last  moment,  when  Fred  took 
his  place,  and  the  ceremony  passed  off  as  satis- 
factorily as  if  there  had  been  no  failure,  on  the 
part  of  any  expected,  to  participate  in  it. 

It  took  place  in  the  drawing-room  at  Rose- 
lands,  in  presence  a  crowd  of  aristocratic  guests, 
and  was  considered  a  very  grand  affair.  A 
round  of  parties  followed  for  the  next  two  weeks, 
and  then  the  happy  pair  set  sail  for  Europe. 


<%pfer  |fint|. 


■*  3£y  plot*  fa-  short,  like  darts  which  rash  hands  throw 
With  an  HI  aim,  and  have  too  far  to  go." 

—Sib  Rosbst  Hot?asd. 

"  I'm  so  glad  if  s  all  over  at  last ! " 

"What,  my  little  friend  ?"  and  Mr.  Travilla 
looked  fondly  into  the  sweet  face  so  bright  and 
nappy,  where  the  beauties  of  rare  intellect  and 
moral  worth  were  as  eonspicuons  as  the  lesser 
ones  of  exquisite  contour  and  coloring. 

"The  wedding  and  all  the  accompanying 
round  of  dissipation.  Now  I  hope  we  can  settle 
down  to  quiet  home  pleasures  for  the  rest  of  the 
winter." 

"  So  do  I,  and  that  I  shall  see  twice  as  much 
of  you  as  I  have  of  late.  You  can  have  no  idea 
how  I  missed  you  while  you  were  absent.  And 
I  am  more  than  half  envious  of  our  bride  and 
groom.     Shall  our  trip  be  to  Europe,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Are  we  to  take  a  trip  ?  "  she  asked  with  an 
arch  smile 

"That  will  be  as  you  wish,  learest*  of 
course." 


108  ELbIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

"  I  don't  wish  it  now,  nor  do  you,  I  know  i 
but  we  shall  have  time  enough  to  settle  all  suet 
questions." 

"  Plenty  ;  I  only  wish  we  had  not  so  much 
Yet  I  don't  mean  to  grumble  ;  the  months  wili 
soon  slip  away  and  bring  the  time  when  I  may 
claim  my  prize." 

They  were  riding  toward  the  Oaks ;  the  sun 
had  just  set,  and  the  moon  was  still  below  the 
horizon. 

Elsie  suddenly  reined  in  her  horse,  Mr.  Tra- 
yilla  instantly  doing  likewise,  and  turned  a  pale, 
agitated  face  upon  him.  "Did  you  hear 
that  ?  "  she  asked  low  and  tremulously. 

"  What,  dear  child  ?  I  heard  nothing  but 
the  sound  of  our  horses'  hoofs,  the  sighing  of  the 
wind  in  the  tree-tops,  and  our  own  voices." 

"  I  heard  another;  a  muttered  oath  and  the 
words,  '  You  shall  never  win  her.  I'll  see  to  that.' 
The  tones  were  not  loud  but  deep,  and  the  wind 
seemed  to  carry  the  sounds  directly  to  my  ear," 
she  whispered,  laying  a  trembling  little  hand 
on  his  arm,  and  glancing  nervously  from  side 
to  side. 

"  A  trick  of  the  imagination,  I  think,  dearest ; 
but  from  whence  did  the  sounds  seem  to  come  ?  '* 

"  From  yonder  thicket  of  evergreens  and — 
I  knew  the  voice  for  that  of  your  deadly  foe,  the 
man  from  whom  you  and  papa  reacued  me  is 
Lansdale." 


ELSIE' 8   WOMANHuul)  10S 

"  My  child,  he  is  expiating  his  crime  in  a 
Pennsylvania  penitentiary." 

"  But  may  he  not  haye  escaped,  or  have  been 
pardoned  out  ?  Don't,  oh  don't,  I  entreat  yon  ! ?: 
she  cried,  as  he  turned  his  horse's  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  thicket.     "  Yon  will  be  killed." 

"  I  am  armed,  and  a  dead  shot,"  he  answered, 
taking  a  revolver  from  his  breast  pocket. 

*  But  he  is  in  ambush,  and  can  shoot  you 
down  before  you  can  see  to  aim  at  him." 

"  You  are  right,  if  there  is  really  an  enemy 
concealed  there,"  he  answered,  returning  the 
revolver  to  its  former  resting  place  ;  "  but  I  feel 
confident  that  it  was  either  a  trick  of  the  imagi- 
nation with  you,  or  that  some  one  is  playing  a 
practical  joke  upon  us.  So  set  your  fears  at  rest, 
dear  child,  and  let  us  hasten  on  our  way. " 

Elsie  yielded  to  his  better  judgment,  trying 
to  believe  it  nothing  worse  than  a  practical  joke  ; 
but  had  much  ado  to  quiet  her  agitated  nerves 
and  recover  her  composure  before  a  brisk  canter 
brought  them  to  the  Oaks,  and  she  must  meet 
her  fathers  keen  eye. 

They  found  Arthur  in  the  drawing-room, 
chatting  with  Rose.  He  rose  with  a  bland, 
ie  Good  evening,"  and  gallantly  handed  Elsie  to 
a  seat.  Arthur  was  a  good  deal  changed  since 
his  recall  from  college  ;  and  in  nothing  more 
than  in  his  manner  to  Elsie  ;  he  was  now  always 
polite ;  often  cordial  even  when  alone  with  her. 


110  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

He  was  not  thoroughly  ieformed,  but  had  ceased 
to  gamble  and  seldom  drank  to  intoxication. 

"  Thank  you  ;  but  indeed  I  must  go  at  once 
and  dress  for  tea,"  Elsie  said,  consulting  her 
watch.     "  You  are  not  going  yet  ?  " 

f;No,  he  will  stay  to  tea,"  said  Eose. 

'(  But  must  go  soon  after,  as  I  have  an  en- 
gagement," added  Arthur. 

Elsie  met  her  father  in  the  hall.  "  Ah,  you 
are  at  home  again,"  he  remarked  with  a  pleased 
look  ;  "  that  is  well ;  I  was  beginning  to  think 
you  were  making  it  very  late." 

"  But  you  are  not  uneasy  when  I  am  in  such 
good  hands,  papa  ?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly ;  but  like  better  to  take 
care  of  you  myself." 

The  clock  was  just  striking  eight  as  Arthur 
mounted  and  rode  away  from  his  brothers  door. 
It  was  not  a  dark  night,  or  yet  very  light ;  for 
though  the  moon  had  risen,  dark  clouds  were 
scudding  across  the  sky,  allowing  but  an  occa- 
sional glimpse  of  her  face,  and  casting  deep 
shadows  oyer  the  landscape. 

In  the  partial  obscurity  of  one  of  these,  and 
only  a  few  rods  ahead  of  him,  when  about  half- 
way between  the  Oaks  and  Koselands,  Arthur 
thought  he  discovered  the  figure  of  a  man  stand- 
ing by  the  roadside,  apparently  waiting  to  halt 
him  as  he  passed. 

"Ha  !   you'll  not  take  ^ie  by  surprise,  my 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  Ill 

ine  fellow,  whoever  you  may  be,"  muttered 
Arthur  between  bis  set  teeth,  drawing  out  a 
revolver  and  cocking  it.  "Halloo  there  '  Who 
are  you ;  and  what  d'ye  want  ? "  he  caJed,  m 
his  horse  brought  him  nearly  opposite  the  suspi- 
cious looking  object. 

"Your  money  or  your  life,  Dinsmore,"  re- 
turned the  other  with  a  coarse  laugh.  "Don't 
pretend  not  to  know  me,  old  chap." 

"  You  1 "  exclaimed  Arthur,  with  an  oath, 
but  half  under  his  breath.  "I  thought  you 
were  safe  in-—" 

"  State  prison,  eh  ?  Well,  so  I  was,  but 
they've  pardoned  me  out  I  was  a  reformed 
character,  you  see  ;  and  then  my  vote  was  wanted 
at  the  last  election,  ha  !  ha  !  And  so  I've  come 
down  to  see  how  my  old  friends  are  getting 
along." 

"  Friends  I  don't  count  me  among  them  ! " 
returned  Arthur  hastily ;  "  jail-birds  are  no 
mates  for  me," 

"  Ko,  I  understand  that,  the  disgrace  is  in 
being  caught.  But  you'd  as  well  keep  a  civil 
tongue  in  your  head ;  for  if  you're  covering  me 
with  a  revolver,  I'm  doing  the  same  by  you." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  Tom,"  answered 
Arthur,  with  a  scornful  laugh,  "but  I'm  in  a 
fcuirry  ;  so  be  good  enough  to  move  out  of  the 
tfay  and  let  me  pass."  For  the  other  had  uo^ 


112  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

planted  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and 
laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  the  horse's  bridle-rein. 

"  When  I've  said  my  say ;  no  sooner.  So 
that  pretty  niece  of  yours,  my  former  fiancee,  is 
engaged  to  Travilla  ?  the  man  whom,  of  all 
others,  I  hate  with  a  hatred  bitterer  than  death. 
I  would  set  my  heel  upon  his  head  and  grind  it 
into  the  earth  as  I  would  the  head  of  a  venomous 
reptile." 

"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  I  overheard  some  o'  their  sweet  talk  as  they 
rode  by  here  not  two  hours  ago.  He  robbed 
me  of  her  that  he  might  snatch  the  prize  him- 
self ;  I  saw  his  game  at  the  time.  But  he  shall 
never  get  her,"  he  concluded,  grinding  his  teeth 
with  rage. 

"  Pray,  how  do  you  propose  to  prevent  it  ? " 

"  111  call  him  out.  ' 

Arthur's  laugh  rang  out  mockingly  upon  the 
still  night  air.  "  Southern  gentlemen  accept  a 
challenge  only  from  gentlemen  ;  and  as  for  Tra- 
villa,  beside  being  a  dead  shot,  he's  too  pious  to 
fight  a  duel,  even  with  his  own  class." 

"He'll  meet  me  in  fair  fight,  or  I'll  shoot 
him  down,  like  a  dog,  in  his  tracks."  The 
words,  spoken  in  low  tone,  of  concentrated  fury, 
were  accompanied  with  a  volley  of  horrible  oaths. 

"  You'd  better  not  try  it ! "  said  Arthur ; 
"  you'd  be  lynched  and  hung  on  the  nearest  tree 
within  an  hour  " 


EL81E>8  WOMANHOOD.  113 

"They'd  haye  to  catch  me  first." 

"  And  they  would,  they'd  set  their  blood- 
hounds on  your  track,  and  there' d  be  no  escape. 
As  to  the  lady  haying  been  your  fiancee — she 
neyer  was ;  she  would  not  engage  herself  with- 
out my  brother's  consent,  which  you  were  not 
able  to  obtain.  And  now  you'd  better  take 
yourself  off  out  of  this  neighborhood,  after  such 
threats  as  you'ye  made  ! " 

"  That  means  you  intend  to  turn  informer, 
eh?" 

"  It  means  nothing  of  the  kind,  unless  I'm 
called  up  as  a  witness  in  court ;  but  you  can't 
prowl  about  here  long  without  being  seen  and 
arrested  a?  a  suspicious  character,  an  abolition- 
ist, or  some  other  sort  of  scoundrel — which  last 
70U  know  you  are,"  Arthur  could  not  help  add- 
ing in  a  parenthesis.  "  So  take  my  adyice,  and 
retreat  while  you  can.  Now  out  o'  the  way,  if 
you  please,  and  let  me  pass." 

Jackson  sullenly  stood  aside,  letting  go  the 
rein,  and  Arthur  galloped  off. 

In  the  meantime,  .the  older  members  of  the 
family  at  the  Oaks  were  quietly  enjoying  them- 
selves in  the  library,  where  bright  lights,  and  s 
cheerful  wood  fire  snapping  and  crackling  on 
the  hearth,  added  to  the  sense  of  comfort 
imparted  by  handsome  furniture,  books,  paint- 
ings, statuary,  rich  carpet,  soft  couches,  and 
sasy  chairs. 


114  ELSIE'S  WOMANBQOD. 

The  children  had  been  sent  to  bed.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Dinsmore  sat  by  the  centre  table,  the  one 
bnsy  with  the  evening  paper,  the  otLer  sewing, 
bnt  now  and  then  casting  a  furtive  glance  at  a 
distant  sofa,  where  Mr.  Trayilla  and  Elsie  were 
seated  side  by  side,  conversing  in  an  undertone. 

"This  is  comfort,  having  you  to  myself 
again,"  ho  was  saying,  as  he  watched  admir- 
ingly the  delicate  fingers  busied  with  a  crochet 
needle,  forming  bright  meshes  of  scarlet  zephyr. 
"  How  I  missed  you  when  you  were  gone  !  and 
yet,  do  you  know,  I  cannot  altogether  regret 
the  short  separation,  since  otherwise  I  should 
have  missed  my  precious  budget  of  letters." 

"Ah,"  she  said,  lifting  her  merry  brown 
eyes  to  his  face  for  an  instant,  then  dropping  them 
again,  with  a  charming  smile  and  blush,  "  do 
you  think  that  an  original  idea,  or  rather  that 
it  is  original  only  with  yourself  ?  " 

"  And  you  are  glad  to  have  mine  ?  though 
not  nearly  so  sweet  and  fresh  as  yours."  How 
glad  he  looked  as  he  spoke. 

"Ah!"  she  answered  archly,  "I'll  not  tell 
you  what  I  have  done  with  them,  lest  you  grow 
conceited.  But  I  have  a  confession  to  make," 
and  she  laughed  lightly.  "  Will  you  absolve  me 
beforehand  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  are  penitent,  and  promise  to 
offend  no  more.     What  is  it  ?." 

"  I  see  I  have  aroused  your  curiosity,  I  shall 


ELSIE'S  WOMANBOOB.  118 

not  keep  you  in  suspense.  I  am  corresponding 
with  a  young  gentleman.  Here  is  a  letter  from 
him.  received  to-day  ; "  drawing  it  from  her 
pocket  as  she  spoke,  she  put  it  into  his  hand. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  examine  it,"  he  said 
gravely,  laying  it  on  her  lap.  "  I  can  trust  you 
fully,  Elsie." 

"  But  I  should  like  you  to  read  it ;  'tis  from 
Mr.  Mason,  my  chaplain  at  Yiamede,  and  gives 
a  lengthy,  and  yery  interesting  account  of  the 
Christmas  doings  there." 

"  Which  I  should  much  prefer  to  hear  from 
your  lips,  my  little  friend." 

"  Ah,  read  it,  please  ;  read  it  aloud  to  me  ;  I 
shall  then  enjoy  it  as  much  as  I  did  the  first  time  ; 
and  you  will  learn  how  truly  good  and  pious  Mr. 
Mason  is,  far  better  than  from  my  telling.  Not 
that  he  talks  of  himself,  but  you  perceive  it  from 
what  he  says  of  others." 

He  complied  with  her  request,  reading  in  the 
undertone  in  which  they  had  been  talking. 

"  A  very  well  written  and  interesting  letter," 
he  remarked,  as  he  refolded  and  returned  it, 
"Yes,  I  should  judge  from  it  that  he  is  the 
right  man  in  the  right  place.  I  presume  the 
selection  of  gifts  so  satisfactory  to  all  parties 
must  have  been  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  being  with  them,  I  was  able  to 
ascertain  their  wants  and  wishes,  by  questioning 
one  in  regard  to  another.     Then  I  made  out  the 


116  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

list,  and  left  Mr.  Mason  to  do  the  purchasing  for 
me.  I  think  I  can  trust  him  again,  and  it  is  a 
great  relief  to  my  mind  to  haye  some  one  there  to 
attend  to  the  welfare  of  their  souls  and  bodies." 

"Haye  you  gotten  oyer  your  fright  of  this 
evening  ?  "  he  inquired  tenderly,  bending  toward 
her,  and  speaking  lower  than  before. 

"  Almost  if — if  you  haye  not  to  return  to  Ion 
to-night.     Must  you,  really  ?  " 

"Yes;  mother  would  be  alarmed  bj  my 
absence ;  and  she  seldom  retires  till  I  am  there 
to  bid  her  good-night" 

"  Then  promise  me  to  ayoid  that  thicket," 
she  pleaded  anxiously. 

"  I  cannot  think  there  is  any  real  danger,"  he 
said,  with  a  reassuring  smile,  "but  I  shall  take 
the  other  road;  'tis  but  a  mile  further  round, 
and  it  would  pay  me  to  trayel  fifty  to  spare  you 
a  moment's  anxiety,  dearest." 

She  looked  her  thanks. 

He  left  at  ten,  his  usual  hour,  bidding  her 
haye  no  fear  for  him,  since  no  real  evil  can  befall 
those  who  put  their  trust  in  Him  whose  watch- 
ful, protecting  care  is  eyer  about  His  chosen 
ones. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  as  for  a  moment  his 
arm  encircled  her  waist,  "'What  time  I  am 
afraid,  I  will  trust  in  thee.'  It  is  comparatively 
easy  to  trust  for  myself,  and  God  will  help  me  to 
do  it  for  you  also." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  IIS 

She  stood  at  the  window  watching  his  depart- 
ure, her  heart  going  up  in  silent  prayer  for  hig 
safety.  Then,  saying  to  herself,  "Papa  must 
not  be  disturbed  with  my  idle  fancies,"  she  turned 
to  receive  his  good-night  with  a  face  so  serene 
and  unclouded,  a  manner  so  calm  and  peaceful, 
that  he  had  no  suspicion  of  anything  amiss, 

Kor  was  it  an  assumed  peace  and  calmness  ;  foi 
she  nad  not  now  to  learn  to  cast  her  care  on  the 
Lord,  whom  she  had  loved  and  served  from  her 
very  infancy ;  and  her  head  had  not  rested  many 
moments  upon  her  pillow,  ere  she  fell  into  a  deep, 
eweet  sleep,  that  lasted  until  morning. 

While  Elsie  slept,  and  Mr.  Travilla  galloped 
homeward  by  the  longer  route,  the  moon,  peer- 
ing through  the  cloud  curtains,  looked  down  upon 
a  dark  figure,  standing  behind  a  tree  not  many 
yards  distant  from  the  thicket  Elaie  had  besought 
her  friend  to  shun.  The  man  held  a  revolver  in 
his  hand,  ready  cocked  for  instant  use.  His 
attitude  was  that  of  one  listening  intently  for 
some  expected  sound. 

He  had  stood  thus  for  nours,  and  was  grow- 
ing very  weary,  "  Curse  the  wretch  ! "  he  mut- 
tered, "does  he  court  all  night?  How  manj 
hours  have  I  been  here  waiting  for  my  chance 
for  a  shot  at  him  ?  It's  getting  to  be  no  joke, 
hungry,  cold,  tired  enough  to  he  down  here  on 
the  ground.  But  I'll  stick  it  out,  and  shoot  him 
down  like  a  dog.     He  thinks  to  enjoy  the  prize 


118  ELSIE  3  WOMANHOOD. 

he  3natched  from  me,  but  he'll  find  himself  mis^ 

taken,  or  my  name's  n "    The  sentence  ended 

with  a  fierce  grinding  of  the  teeth.  Hark  !  was 
that  the  distant  tread  of  a  horse  ?  He  bent  his 
ear  to  the  earth,  and  almost  held  his  breath  to 
listen.  Yes,  faint  but  unmistakable  ;  the  sounda 
filled  him  with  a  fiendish  joy.  For  years  he  had 
nursed  his  hatred  of  Travilla,  whom  he  blamed 
almost  exclusively  for  his  failure  to  get  possession 
of  Elsie's  fortune. 

He  sprang  up  and  again  placed  himself  in 
position  to  fire.  But  what  had  become  of  the 
welcome  sounds  ?  Alas  for  his  hoped-for  re- 
venge ;  they  had  died  away  entirely.  The  horse 
and  his  rider  must  have  taken  some  other  road. 
More  low-breathed,  bitter  curses  :  yet  perchance 
it  was  not  the  man  for  whose  life  he  thirsted. 
He  would  wait  and  hope  on. 

But  the  night  waned  :  one  after  another  the 
moon  and  stars  set  and  day  began  to  break  in  the 
east ;  the  birds  waking  in  their  nests  overhead 
grew  clamorous  with  joy,  yet  their  notes  seemed 
to  contain  a  warning  tone  for  him,  bidding  him 
begone  ere  the  coming  of  the  light  hated  by 
those  whose  deeds  are  evil.  Chilled  by  the  frosty 
air,  and  stiff  and  sore  from  long  standing  in  a 
constrained  position,  he  limped  away,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  deeper  shadows  of  the  woods. 

Arthur's  words  of  warning  had  taken  then 


JULSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


IIS 


desired  effect ;  and  cowardly,  as  base,  wicked,  and 
cruel,  the  man  made  haste  to  flee  from  the  scene 
of  his  intended  crime,  imagining  at  times  that 
he  eyen  heard  the  blood-hounds  already  on  hia 
track. 


Cjjapfer  fat|. 


"  At  last  I  know  thee— and  my  Krai, 
From  all  thy  %rt*  set  free, 
Abjures  the  u>;0.  consummate  art 
Shrin'd  as  a  *oul  in  thee." 

— Sjuu  J.  Ciajul 

The  jest  of  the  winter  passed  quietly  and 
happily  with  our  friends  at  Ion  and  the  Oaks,  Mr. 
Travilla  spending  nearly  half  his  time  at  the 
latter  place,  and  in  rides  and  walks  with  Elsie, 
whom  he  now  and  then  coaxed  to  Ion  for  a  call 
upon  his  mother. 

Their  courtship  vjas  serene  and  peaceful : 
disturbed  by  no  feverish  heat  of  passion,  no 
doubts  and  fears,  no  lovers'  quarrels,  but  full  ol 
a  deep,  intense  happiness,  the  fruit  of  their  long 
and  intimate  friendship,  their  full  acquaintance 
with,  and  perfect  confidence  in  each  other,  and 
their  strong  love.  Enna  sneeringly  observed  that 
"they  were  more  like  some  staid  old  married 
couple  than  a  pair  of  lovers." 

Arthur  made  no  confidant  in  regard  to  his 
late  interview  with  Jackson  ;  nothing  more  was 
heard  or  seen  of  the  scoundrel,  and  gradually 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  1S1 

Elsie  eame  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  TrayiH^ 
who  occasionally  rallied  her  good-naturedly  on 
the  subject  of  her  fright,  had  been  correct  in  his 
judgment  that  it  was  either  the  work  of  imagina- 
tion or  of  some  practical  joker. 

Arthur,  on  his  part,  thought  that  fear  of  the 
terrors  he  had  held  up  before  him  would  cause 
Jackson— whom  he  knew  to  be  an  arrant  coward — 
to  refrain  from  adventuring  himself  again  into 
that  neighborhood. 

But  he  miscalculated  the  depth  of  the  man's 
animosity  toward  Mr.  Trayilla,  which  so  exceeded 
his  cowardice  as  at  length  to  induce  him  to  return 
and  make  another  effort  to  destroy  either  the 
life  of  that  gentleman  or  his  hopes  of  happiness  ; 
perhaps  both. 

Elsie  was  very  fond  of  the  society  of  her  dear 
ones,  yet  occasionally  found  much  enjoyment  in 
being  alone,  for  a  short  season,  with  Mature  or  a 
book.  A  yery  happy  little  woman,  as  she  had 
every  reason  to  be,  and  full  of  gratitude  and  love 
to  the  Giver  of  all  good  for  his  unnumbered 
blessings,  she  loved  now  and  then  to  have  a  quiet 
hour  in  whicr  to  count  them  over,  as  a  miser 
does  his  gold,  to  return  her  heartfelt  thanks,  tell 
her  best,  her  dearest  Friend  of  all,  how  happy  she 
was,  and  seek  help  from  Him  to  make  a  r^ght  use 
of  each  talent  committed  to  her  care. 

Seated  in  her  favorite  arbor  one  lovely  gpring 
day,  with  thoughts  thus  employed,  and  eyes  gas- 


122  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

ing  dreamily  upon  the  beautiful  landscape  spread 
out  at  her  feet,  she  was  startled  from  her  reverie 
by  some  one  suddenly  stepping  in  and  boldly 
taking  a  seat  by  her  side. 

She  turned  her  head.  Could  it  be  possible  ? 
Yes,  it  was  ."ndeed  Tom  Jackson,  handsomely 
dressed  and  looking,  to  a  casual  observer,  the 
gentleman  she  had  once  believed  him  to  be. 
She  recognized  him  instantly. 

A  burning  blush  suffused  her  face,  dyeing 
even  the  fair  neck  and  arms.  She  spoke  not  a 
word,  but  rose  up  hastily  with  the  intent  to  fly 
from  his  hateful  presence. 

"Now  don't,  my  darling,  don't  run  awaj 
from  me,"  he  said,  intercepting  her.  "  I'm  sure 
you  couldn't  have  the  heart,  if  you  knew  how  I 
have  lived  for  years  upon  the  hope  of  such  a 
meeting  :  for  my  love  for  you,  dearest  Elsie,  has 
never  lessened,  the  ardor  of  my  passion  has 
never  cooled — " 

"  Enough,  sir  . "  she  said,  drawing  herself  up, 
her  eyes  kindling  and  flashing  as  he  had  never 
thought  they  could  ;  "  how  dare  you  insult  me  by 
such  words,  and  by  your  presence  here  ?  Let 
me  pass." 

"  Insult  you,  Miss  Dinsmore  ?  "  he  cried,  in 
affected  surprise.  ' '  You  were  not  wont,  in  pad. 
days,  to  consider  my  presence  an  insult,  and  I 
oould  never  have  believed  fickleness  a  part  of 
your  nature.     You  are  now  of  age,  and  have  a 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  123 

right  to  listen  to  my  defence,  and  my  suit  for 
your  heart  and  hand." 

"Are  yon  mad?  Can  you  still  suppose  me 
ignorant  of  your  true  character  and  your  history 
for  years  past  ?  Know  then  that  I  am  fully 
acquainted  with  them  ;  that  I  know  you  to  be  a 
lover  of  vice  and  the  society  of  the  yicious—  a 
drunkard,  profane,  a  gambler,  and  one  who  has 
stained  his  hands  with  the  blood  of  a  fellow-crea- 
ture/' she  added  with  a  shudder.  "  I  pray  God 
you  may  repent  and  be  forgiven  ;  but  you  are 
not  and  can  never  be  anything  to  me." 

"  So  with  all  your  piety  you  forsake  your 
friends  when  they  get  into  trouble,'''  he  remarked 
with  a  bitter  sneer. 

"  Friend  of  mine  you  never  were,"  she 
answered  quietly  ;  "I  know  it  was  my  fortune 
and  not  myself  you  really  wanted.  But  though 
it  were  true  that  you  loved  me  as  madly  and  dis- 
interestedly as  you  professed,  had  I  known  your 
character,  never,  never  should  I  have  held  speech 
with  you,  much  less  admitted  you  to  terms  of 
familiarity — a  fact  which  I  look  back  upon  with 
the  deepest  mortification.  Let  me  pass,  sir,  and 
never  venture  to  approach  me  again." 

"Xo  you  don't,  my  haughty  miss  !  I'm  not 
done  with  you  yet,"  he  exclaimed  between  hit 
clenched  teeth,  and  seizing  her  rudely  by  the  aria 
sa  she  tried  to  step  past  him.     (i  So  you're  en- 


i24  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

gaged  to  that  fatherly  friend  of  yours,  that  piou 
sneak,  that  deadly  foe  to  me  ?  " 

"  Unhand  me,  sir  ! " 

"  Not  yet,"  he  answered,  tightening  his  grasp, 
and  at  the  same  time  taking  a  pistol  from  hifi 
pocket  "I  swear  you  shall  never  marry  thai 
man  :  promise  me  on  your  oath  that  you'll 
not,  or — I'll  shoot  you  through  the  heart ;  the 
heart  that's  turned  false  to  me.  D'ye  hear," 
and  he  held  the  muzzle  of  his  piece  within  a  foot 
of  her  breast. 

Every  trace  of  color  fled  from  her  face,  hut 
she  stood  like  a  marble  statue,  without  speech  or 
motion  of  a  muscle,  her  eyes  looking  straight 
into  his  with  firm  defiance. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  he  repeated,  in  a  tone  of 
exasperation,  "  speak  !  promise  that  you'll  never 
marry  Travilla,  or  I'll  shoot  you  in  three  min- 
utes— shoot  you  down  dead  on  the  spot,  if  I  swing 
for  it  before  night." 

"  That  will  be  as  God  pleases,"  she  answered 
low  and  reverently  ;  "  you  can  have  no  power  at 
all  against  me  except  it  be  given  you  from 
above." 

"  I  can't,  hey  ?  looks  like  it ;  I've  only  to 
touch  the  trigger  here,  and  your  soul's  out  o'  your 
body.     Better  promise  than  die," 

Still  she  stood  looking  him  unflinchingly  in 
the  eye  ;  not  a  muscle  moving,  no  sign  of  feai 
except  that  deadly  pallor. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  125 

"Well/5  lowering  his  piece,  "you're  a  brave 
girl,  and  I  haven't  the  heart  to  do  it"  he 
exclaimed  in  admiration.  "Fll  give  up  that 
promise  ;  on  condition  that  yon  make  another — 
that  you'll  keep  all  this  a  secret  for  twenty-four 
hours,  so  I  can  make  my  escape  from  the  neigh- 
borhood before  they  get  after  me  with  their 
bloodhounds." 

"  That  I  promise,  if  you  will  begone  at  once." 

"  You'll  not  say  a  word  to  anyone  of  having 
seen  me,  or  suspecting  I'm  about  here  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  until  tha  twenty-four  hours  are 
over." 

"  Then  good-by.  Your  pluck  has  saved  your 
life  ;  but  remember,  I've  not  said  I  won't  shoot 
him  or  your  father,  if  chance  throws  them 
in  my  way,"  he  added,  looking  back  over  his 
shoulder  with  a  malicious  leer,  as  he  left  the 
arbor,  then  disappearing  from  sight  among  the 
trees  and  shrubbery  beyond. 

Elsie's  knees  shook  and  trembled  under  her  ; 
she  sank  back  into  her  seat,  covering  her  face  and 
bowing  her  head  upon  her  lap,  while  she  sent  up 
silent,  almost  agonizing  petitions  for  the  safety 
of  those  two  so  inexpressibly  dear  to  her.  Some 
moments  passed  thus,  then  she  rose  and  hastened, 
with  a  quick  nervous  step,  to  the  house.  She 
entered  her  boudoir,  and  lay  down  upon  a  couch 
trembling  in  every  fibre,  every  nerve  quivering 
with  excitement.     The  shock  had  been  terrible- 


186  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

'*  What  de  matter  wid  my  chile  ?  what  aila 
you,  honey  ?"  asked  Aunt  Chloe,  coming  to  her 
side  full  of  concern. 

"I  think  one  of  my  bad  headaches  is  coming 
on,  mammy.  But  oh,  tell  me,  is  Mr.  Travilla 
here  ? — and  papa  !  where  is  he  ?  " 

"Here,  daughter,"  his  yoice  answered,  close 
at  hand,  "and  with  a  note  for  you  from  Mr. 
Travilla,  who  has  not  shown  himself  to-day." 

She  took  it  eagerly,  but  with  a  hand  that 
trembled  as  if  with  sudden  palsy,  while  the  eyes, 
usually  so  keen-sighted,  saw  only  a  blurred  and 
confused  jumble  of  letters  in  place  of  the  clear, 
legible  characters  really  there. 

"  I  cannot  see^"  she  said,  in  a  half -frightened 
tone,  and  pressing  the  other  hand  to  her  brow. 

"And  you  are  trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf," 
he  said,  bending  over  her  in  serious  alarm, 
"My  child,  when  did  this  come  on?  and  what 
has  caused  it  ?  " 

"  Papa,  I  cannot  tell  you  now,  or  till  to-mor- 
row, at  this  hour  ;  I  will  then.  But  oh,  papa 
dear,  dear  papa ! "  she  cried,  putting  her  arm 
about  his  neck  and  bursting  into  hysterical  weep- 
ing, "  promise  me,  if  you  love  me  promise  me, 
that  you  will  not  leave  the  house  till  I  have  told 
you.  I  am  sick,  I  am  suffering ;  you  will  stay 
by  me  ?  you  will  not  leave  me  ?" 

"  My  darling,  I  will  do  anything  I  can  to 
relieve  you,  mentally  or  physically,"  he  answered 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  W7 

in  tones  of  tenderest  love  and  concern.  "  I  shall 
not  stir  from  the  honse,  while  to  do  so  would 
increase  your  suffering.  I  perceive  there  has 
been  some  villainy  practised  npon  yon,  and  a 
promise  extorted,  which  I  shall  not  ask  yon  to 
break  ;  bnt  rest  assured,  I  shall  keep  guard  over 
my  precious  one." 

"And  Mr.  Travilla!"  she  gasped.  "Oh, 
papa,  if  I  only  knew  he  was  safe  ! " 

"  Perhaps  the  note  may  set  your  mind  at  rest 
on  that  point.     Shall  I  read  it  for  yon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  putting  it  into  his  hand 
with  a  slight  blush,  "  he  never  writes  what  I 
should  be  ashamed  or  afraid  to  have  my  father 
see." 

It  was  but  short,  written  merely  to  explain 
his  absence,  and  dated  from  a  neighboring  plan- 
tation, where  he  had  gone  to  assist  in  nursing  a 
sick  friend  whom  he  should  not  be  able  to  leave 
for  some  days.  There  were  words  of  deep,  strong 
affection,  but  as  she  had  foreseen,  nothing  that 
Bhe  need  care  to  have  her  father  know  or  see. 

"Does  not  this  news  allay  your  fears  for 
him  ?  "    Mr-  Dinsmore  asked  tenderly. 

"  Yes,  papa,"  she  answered,  the  tears  stream- 
ing from  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  how  good  God  is  to  me  ! 
I  will  trust  him,  trust  him  for  you  both,  as  well 
as  myself. "  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
while  Bhudder  after  shudder  shook  her  whofe 
frame. 


128  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  much  perplexed,  and 
deeply  concerned.  "  Shall  I  send  for  Dr.  Bar 
ton  ?  "  he  asked.  "  No,  no,  papa  !  I  am  not 
ill ;  only  my  nerves  have  had  a  great,  a  terrible 
shock  ;  they  seem  all  unstmng,  and  my  temple* 
are  throbbing  with  pain.-' 

"  My  poor,  poor  darling  !  strange  that  with 
all  my  care  and  watchfulness  you  should  have 
been  subjected  to  such  a  trial.  Some  ruffian  has 
bero  trying  to  extort  money  from  you,  I  presume, 
oy  threatened  violence  to  yourself,  Travilla,  and 
me.     Where  were  you  ?  " 

"In  my  arbor,  sir  " 

"  And  alone  ?  " 

"Yes,  papa  ;  I  thought  myself  safe  there." 

"  I  forbid  you  to  go  there  or  to  any  distance 
from  the  house,  alone,  again.  You  must  always 
have  some  one  within  call,  if  not  close  at  youi 
side." 

"  And  my  father  knows  I  will  obey  him,"  she 
said,  tremulously  lifting  his  hand  to  her  lips. 

He  administered  an  anodyne  to  relieve  the 
tortured  nerves,  then  sitting  down  beside  her, 
passed  his  hand  soothingly  over  hair  and  cheek, 
while  with  the  other  he  held  ona  of  hers  in  lov- 
ing, tender  clasp.  Neither  spoke,  and  at  length 
she  fell  asleep  ;  yet  not  a  sound,  refreshing  slum- 
ber, but  disturbed  by  starts  and  moans,  and  fre- 
quent wakings  to  see  and  feel  that  he  was  stUJ 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  129 

there,     "  Papa,  don't  go  away  .  don't  leave  me  ln 
was  her  constant  cry. 

"My  darling,  my  precious  one,  I  will  not,' 
was  his  repeated  assurance  ;  "I  will  stay  with 
yon  while  this  trouble  lasts." 

And  all  that  day  and  night  he  never  left  her 
side,  while  Rose  came  and  went,  full  of  aniiety 
and  doing  everything  that  could  be  done  for  the 
sufferers  relief. 

It  was  a  night  of  unrest  to  them  all ;  but 
morning  found  her  free  from  pain,  though  weak 
and  languid,  and  still  filled  with  distress  if  her 
father  was  absent  for  more  than  a  few  momenta 
from  her  side.  She  inquired  of  him  at  what 
hour  she  had  come  in  the  day  before  :  then 
watched  the  time  and,  as  soon  as  released  from 
her  promise,  told  him  all. 

Great  was  his  indignation ;  and,  determined 
that,  if  possible,  the  villain  should  be  apprehended 
and  brought  to  justtice,  he  sent  word  at  once  to 
the  magistrates  :  a  warrant  was  issued,  and  sev 
eral  parties  were  presently  out  in  different  direc- 
tions in  hot  pursuit. 

But  with  the  twenty-four  hours'  start  Jackson 
had  made  good  his  escape,  and  the  only  advan- 
tage gained  was  the  relief  of  knowing  that  he  no 
longer  infested  the  neighborhood. 

"  But  when  may  he  not  return  ?  "  El3ie  said 
with  a  shudder.     "  Papa,  I  tremble  for  you,  d&J 
for— Mr  Travilla," 
6» 


130 


ELSIE '8  WOMANHOOD 


"I  am  far  more  concerned  for  you,"  he 
answered,  gazing  upon  her  pale  face  with  pity- 
ing, fatherly  tenderness.  "But  let  us  cast  this 
care,  with  all  others,  upon  our  God.  "Thou 
wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is 
stayed  on  thee ;  because  he  trusteth  in  thee.'* 


(fjrapte  (fcntk 


14  Of  truth,  he  truly  will  all  styles  deserve 
Of  triee,  good,  lust ;  a  man  both  eoal  and  narva.''' 

— Seielsy. 


The  story  reached  Mr,  Travilla's  ears  that 
evening,  and  finding  he  could  be  spared  from 
the  sick-room,  he  hastened  to  the  Oaks.  His 
emotions  were  too  big  for  utterance  as  he  took 
his  "  little  friend  "  in  his  arms  and  clasped  her 
to  his  beating  heart. 

"  God  be  thanked  that  you  are  safe  ! "  he 
said  at  last.  "  Oh.  my  darling,  my  darling, 
what  peril  you  have  been  in  and  how  bravely 
you  met  it !  You  are  the  heroine  of  the  hour," 
he  added  with  a  faint  laugh,  "  all,  old  and  young, 
male  and  female,  black  and  white,  are  loud  in 
praise  of  your  wonderful  firmness  and  courage. 
And,  my  darling,  I  fully  agree  with  them,  and 
exult  in  the  thought  that  this  brave  lady  ia 
mine  own." 

He  drew  her  closer  as  he  spoke,  and  just 
touched  his  lips  to  the  shmJng  hair  and  the  pure 
white  forehead  resting  on  "his  breast 


132  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


a 


Ah ! "  she  murmured  low  and  softly,  a 
dewy  light  shining  in  her  eyes,  "why  should 
they  think  it  anything  wonderful  or  strange  that 
I  felt  little  dread  or  fear  at  the  prospect  of  a 
fudden  transit  from  earth  to  heaven — a  quick 
summons  home  to  my  Father's  house  on  high, 
to  be  at  once  freed  from  sin  and  forever  with 
the  Lord  ?  I  have  a  great  deal  to  live  for,  life 
looks  very  bright  and  sweet  to  me  ;  yet  but  for 
you  and  papa,  I  think  it  would  have  mattered  lit- 
tle to  mo  had  he  carried  out  hib  threat." 

"  My  little  friend,  it  would  have  broken  my 
heart  :  to  lose  you  were  worse  than  a  thousand 
deaths." 

They  were  alone  in  Elsie's  boudoir,  but  when 
an  hour  had  slipped  rapidly  away  there  came  a 
message  from  Mr.  Dinsmore  to  the  effect  that 
their  company  would  be  very  acceptable  in  the 
library. 

They  repaired  thither  at  once,  and  found  him 
and  Eose  laying  out  plans  for  a  summer  trip. 
The  matter  was  under  discussion  all  the  rest  of 
the  evening  and  for  some  days  after,  resulting 
finally  in  the  getting  up  a  large  party  of  tourists, 
consisting  of  the  entire  families  of  the  Oaks  and 
Ion,  with  the  addition  of  Harry  and  Sophie  Car- 
rington,  and  Lora  with  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren ;  servants  of  course  included. 

They  kept  together  for  some  time,  visiting 
different  points  of  interest  :n  Virginia,  Pennsyl- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  133 

rania,  and  New  York  ;  spending  several  weeks  at 
Cape  May  ;  where  they  were  joined  by  the  Alli- 
sons of  Philadelphia  ;  Mr.  Edward  and  Adelaide 
among  the  rest,  they  having  returned  from 
Europe  shortly  before. 

At  length  they  separated,  some  going  in  one 
direction,  some  in  another.  Lora  went  to  Louise, 
Eose  to  her  father's,  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Travilla  to 
friends  in  Cincinnati  and  its  suburbs,  and  Elsie 
to  pay  a  long-promised  visit  to  Lucy  in  her  mar- 
ried home,  a  beautiful  country-seat  on  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson.  Her  father  saw  her  safely  thero, 
then  left  her  for  a  fortnight  ;  their  fears  in  re- 
gard to  Jackson  having  been  allayed  by  the  news 
that  he  had  been  again  arrested  for  burglary, 
and  Lucy  and  her  husband  promising  to  guard 
their  precious  charge  with  jealous  care. 

At  the  end  of  the  fortnight  Mr.  Dinsmore 
returned  for  his  daughter,  and  they  went  on 
together  to  Lansdale  to  visit  Miss  Stanhope. 

Elsie  had  set  her  heart  on  having  her  dear 
old  aunt  spend  the  fall  and  winter  with  them  in 
the  "sunny  South,"  and  especially  on  her  being 
present  at  the  wedding  ;  and  Miss  Stanhope,  after 
much  urging  and  many  protestations  that  she 
was  too  old  for  such  a  journey,  had  at  last  yielded, 
and  given  her  promise,  on  condition  that  her 
nephew  and  niece  should  come  for  her,  and  first 
spend  a  week  or  two  in  Lansdale.  She  entreated 
that  Mr.  Travilla  and  his  mother  might  be  of 


134  ELSIES  WOMANHOOD. 

the  party.  "  He  was  a  great  favorite  of  hers, 
and  she  was  sure  his  mother  must  be  a  woman 
in  a  thousand." 

They  accepted  the  kindness  as  cordially  ag 
it  was  proffered ;  met  the  others  at  the  nearest, 
point  of  connection,  arid  all  arrived  together. 

It  was  not  Lottie  King  who  met  them  at  the 
depot  this  time,  but  a  nae-looking  young  man 
with  black  moustache  and  roguish  dark  eye, 
who  introduced  himself  as  Harry  Duncan,  Miss 
Stanhope's  nephew. 

"  Almost  a  cousin  !  Shall  we  consider  you 
quite  one  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  warmly  shak- 
ing the  hand  held  out  to  him  in  cordial  greeting. 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  feel  highly  honored/' 
the  young  man  answered  in  a  gratified  tone,  and 
with  a  glance  of  undisguised  admiration  and  a 
respectful  bow  directed  toward  Elsie.  Then 
turning  with  an  almost  reverential  air  and 
deeper  bow  to  Mrs.  Travilla,  "  And,  madam,  may 
I  have  the  privilege  of  placing  you  alongside  of 
my  dear  old  aunt,  and  addressing  you  by  the 
same  title?" 

"You  may,  indeed,"  was  the  smiling  re- 
joinder. "  And  my  son  here,  I  suppose,  will  take 
his  place  with  the  others  as  cousin.  No  doubt 
we  are  all  related,  if  we  could  only  go  back  fai 
enough  in  tracing  out  our  genealogies." 

"  To  Father  Adam,  for  instance,"  remarked 
Mr  Travilla,  laughingly. 


££LSIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  135 

"  Or  good  old  Noah,  or  even  his  son  Japheth,5* 
rejoined  Harry,  leading  the  way  to  a  family  car- 
riage sufficiently  roomy  to  hold  them  all  com- 
fortably. 

"  Your  checks,  if  you  please,  aunt  and  cous- 
ins ;  and  Simon  here  will  attend  to  your  luggage. 
Servants'  also." 

Elsie  turned  her  head  to  see  a  young  colored 
man,  bowing,  scraping,  and  grinning  from  eat 
to  ear,  in  whom  she  perceived  a  faint  resem- 
blance to  the  lad  Simon  of  four  years  ago. 

"You  hain't  forgot  me,  miss  ?"  he  said 
"  I'm  still  at  de  ole  place  wid  Miss  Wealthy." 

She  gave  him  a  smile  and  a  nod,  dropping  a 
gold  dollar  into  his  hand  along  with  her  checks  ; 
the  gentlemen  said,  "  How  d'ye  do,"  and  were 
equally  generous,  and  he  went  off  chuckling. 

As  they  drew  near  their  destination,  a  quaint 
little  figure  could  be  seen  standing  at  the  gate 
in  the  shade  of  a  maple  tree,  whose  leaves  of 
mingled  green  and  scarlet,  just  touched  by  the 
September  frosts,  made  a  brilliant  contrast  to 
the  sober  hue  of  her  dress. 

There  she  is  !  our  dear  old  auntie  ! "  cried 
Elsie  with  eager  delight,  that  brought  a  flush  of 
pleasure  to  Harry's  face. 

Miss  Stanhope's  greetings  were  characteristic 
"  Elsie  !  my  darling  !  I  have  you  again  after  all 
these  years  !  Mrs.  Vanilla  too  !  how  kind  !  but 
you  tell  me  your  face  is  always  that.     Horace, 


186  ELBIE'8  WOMAJSHOOIj. 

nephew,  tlis  is  good  of  you  !  And  Mr.  Torville, 
I'm  as  glad  as  the  rest  to  see  you.  Come  in, 
come  in,  all  of  you,  and  make  yourselves  at 
home." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Schilling  still  live  opposite  to 
you,  Aunt  Wealthy  ?"  asked  Elsie  as  they  sat 
about  the  tea-table  an  hour  later. 

"  Yes,  dearie  ;  though  she's  lost  all  commer- 
cial value,"  laughed  the  old  lady ;  "  she's  taken 
a  second  wife  at  last ;  not  Mr.  Was  though,  but 
a  new-comer,  Mr.  Smearer." 

"  Dauber,  auntie,"  corrected  ITarry,  gravely. 

"Well,  well,  child,  the  meaning's  about  the 
game,"  returned  Miss  Stanhope,  laughing  afresh 
at  her  own  mistake,  "and  I'd  as  soon  be  the 
other  as  one." 

"  Mrs.  Dauber  wouldn't  though,"  said  Harry. 
"  I  noticed  her  face  grow  as  red  as  a  beet  the 
other  day  when  you  called  her  Mrs.  Smearer." 

"  She  didn't  mind  being  Mrs.  Sixpence,  I 
think,"  said  Elsie. 

"  Oh  yes,  she  did  ;  it  nettled  her  a  good  deal 
at  first,  but  she  finally  got  used  to  it ;  after  find- 
ing out  how  innocent  auntie  was,  and  how  apt 
to  miscall  other  names." 

"  But  I  thought  she  would  never  be  content 
with  anybody  but  Mr.  Wert." 

"Well,  she  lost  all  hope  there,  and  dropped 
him  at  once  as  soon  as  Dauber  made  his  ap 
pearance  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  187 

Mr.  Dinsmore  inquired  about  the  King^ 
Elsie  had  done  so  in  a  private  chat  with  her  aunt, 
held  in  her  room  directly  after  their  arrival. 

i '  The  doctor's  as  busy  as  ever,  killing  peopla 
all  round  the  country  ;  he's  very  successful  at 
it,"  replied  Miss  Stanhope;  "I've  the  utmost 
confidence  in  his  siall." 

"You  are  a  warm  friend  of  his,  I  know, 
aunt,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  smiling,  "  but  I 
would  advise  you  not  to  try  to  assist  his  repu- 
tation among  strangers." 

"  Why  not,  nephew  ?" 

"  Lest  they  should  take  your  words  literally, 
auntie." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  must  be  careful  how  I  use  my 
stumbling  tongue,"  she  answered  with  a  good- 
humored  smile.  "  I  ought  to  have  always  by, 
somebody  to  correct  my  blunders.  I've  asked 
HajiT  to  do  me  that  kindness,  and  he  often 
does." 

"  It  is  quite  unnecessary  with  us  ;  for  we  all 
know  what  you  intend  to  say,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Travilla,  courteously. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  madam,"  said  Miss  Stan- 
hope ; tk  I  am  not  at  all  sensitive  about  it,  fortu- 
nately, as  my  nephew  knows,  and  my  blunders 
ifford  as  much  amusement  to  any  one  else  as  tc 
me  ;  when  I'm  made  aware  of  them." 

"  Nettie  King  is  married,  papa,"  said  Elgie. 

"Ah!  Lottie  also?" 


188  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  No,  she's  at  home  and  will  be  in,  with  hei 
father  and  mother,  this  evening,"  said  Aunt 
Wealthy.  "  I've  been  matching  to  make  a  hope 
between  her  and  Harry,  but  find  it's  quite 
useless." 

"No,  we're  the  best  of  friends,  but  don't 
care  to  be  anything  more,"  remarked  the  young 
gentleman,  coloring  and  laughing. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Tr  a  villa,  "  it  is  said  by  soma 
one  that  two  people  with  hair  and  eyes  of  the 
same  color  should  beware  of  choosing  each  other 
as  partners  for  life." 

"  And  I  believe  it,"  returned  Harry.  "  Lot- 
tie and  I  are  too  much  alike  in  disposition.  I 
must  look  for  a  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  maiden, 
whose  mental  and  moral  characteristics  will  sup- 
ply the  deficiencies  in  mine." 

"  Gray  eyes  and  brown ;  that  will  do  very 
well,  won't  it  ? "  said  the  old  lady  absently, 
glancing  from  Elsie  to  Mr.  Travilla  and  back 
again. 

Both  smiled,  and  Elsie  cast  down  her  eyes 
with  a  lovely  blush,  while  Mr.  Travilla  answered 
cheerily,  "  We  think  so,  Miss  Stanhope." 

"  Call  me  Aunt  Wealthy  ;  almost  everybody 
does,  and  you  might  as  well  begin  now  as  any 
time.' 

"Thank  you,  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the 
privilege  in  future." 

The  weather  was  warm  for  the  time  of  year, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  139 

and  on  lea  zing  the  table  the  whole  partj  repaired 
to  the  front  porch,  where  Harry  quickly  provided 
eveiy  one  with  a  seat. 

u  That  is  a  beautiful  maple  yonder,"  remarked 
Mr.  Travilla. 

"  Yes,  sir/'  returned  Harry ;  "  we  have  a 
row  of  them  all  along  the  front  of  the  lot ;  and 
as  Mrs.  Dauber  says,  they  are  '  perfectly  gor- 
deous  '  in  the  fall." 

"  The  maple  is  my  favorite  among  the  shade 
leaves,"  remarked  Miss  Stanhope,  joining  in  the 
talk,  "  from  the  time  it  trees  out  in  the  spring  till 
the  bare  become  branches  in  the  fall.  Through 
this  month  and  next  they're  a  perpetual  feast  to 
the  eye." 

"  Aunt,  how  did  you  decide  in  regard  to  that 
investment  you  wrote  to  consult  me  about  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  turning  to  her. 

"  Oh,  I  concluded  to  put  in  a  few  hundreds, 
as  you  thought  it  safe,  on  the  principle  of  not 
having  all  my  baskets  in  one  egg.fy 

"  Small  baskets  they  would  have  to  be, 
auntie,"  Harry  remarked  quietly. 

"  Yes,  my  eggs  are  not  so  many,  but  quita 
enough  for  an  old  lady  like  me." 

As  the  evening  shadows  crept  over  the  land- 
scape the  air  began  to  be  chilly,  and  our  friends 
adjourned  to  the  parlor. 

Here  all  was  just  as  when  Elsie  last  saw  it ; 
neat  as    wax,   everything    is.   place,   and  each 


140  ELSIE'S  WOMAJVJJOOI). 

feather-stuffed  cushion  beaten  up  and  carefully 
smoothed  to  the  state  of  perfect  roundness  in 
which  Miss  Stanhope's  soul  delighted. 

Mrs.  Travilla,  who  had  heard  descriptions  oi 
the  room  and  its  appointments  from  both  her 
son  and  Elsie,  looked  about  her  with  interest : 
upon  the  old  portraits,  the  cabinet  of  curiosi- 
ties, and  the  wonderful  sampler  worked  by  Miss 
Wealthy^  grandmother.  She  examined  with 
curiosity  the  rich  embroidery  of  the  chair 
cushions,  but  preferred  a  seat  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Dr.  and  Mrs.  King  and  Miss  Lottie  I"  an- 
nounced Simon's  voice  from  the  door-way,  and 
the  three  entered. 

Lively,  cordial  greetings  followed,  especially 
on  the  part  of  the  two  young  girls.  Mrs.  Tra- 
villa  was  introduced,  and  all  settled  themselves 
for  achat ;  Lottie  and  Elsie,  of  course,  managing 
to  find  seats  side  by  side. 

"  You  dearest  girl,  you  have  only  changed  by 
growing  more  beautiful  than  ever,"  cried  Lottie, 
squeezing  Elsie's  hand  which  she  still  held,  and 
gazing  admiringly  into  her  face- 
Elsie  laughed  low  and  musically. 
"  Precisely  what  I  was  thinking  of  you,  Lot- 
ie.     It  must  be  your  own  fault  that  you  are  still 
single.     But  we   won't  waste  time  in  nattering 
each  other,  when  we  have  so  much  to  say  that 
ub  better  worth  while." 


ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD.  143 

"  No,  surely;  Aunt  Wealth}  has  told  me  of 
your  engagement." 

"That  was  right ;  it  is  no  secret,  and  should 
not  be  from  you  if  it  were  from  others.  Lottie, 
I  want  you  to  be  one  of  my  bridesmaids.  We're 
going  to  carry  Aunt  Wealthy  off  to  spend  the 
winter  with  us,  and  I  shall  not  be  content  unless 
I  can  do  the  same  by  you." 

"  A  winter  in  the  (  sunny  South  ! '  and  with 
you  ;  how  delightful !  you  dear,  kind  creature,  to 
think  of  it,  and  to  ask  me.  Ah,  if  I  only  could  ! " 

"I  think  you  can  ;  though  of  course  I  know 
your  father  and  mother  must  be  consulted  ;  and 
if  you  come,  you  will  grant  my  request  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes  indeed  !  gladly." 

Aunt  Chloe,  always  making  herself  useful 
wherever  she  went,  was  passing  around  the  room 
with  a  pile  of  plates,  Phillis  following  with  cakes 
and  confections,  while  Simon  brought  in  a  waiter 
with  saucers  and  spoons,  and  two  large  moulds  of 
ice-cream. 

"Will  you  help  the  cream,  Harry?"  said 
Miss  Stanhope.  "  There  are  two  kinds,  you  see, 
travilla  and  melon.  Ask  Mrs.  Vanilla  which  she'll 
have  ;  or  if  she'll  take  both." 

"  Mrs.  Traviila,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
helping  you  to  ice-cream  ?  "  he  asked.  "  There 
are  two  kinds,  vanilla  and  lemon.  Let  me  give 
you  both." 

"  If  you  please,"  she  answered,  with  a  slightly 


142  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

amused  look ;  for  though  Aunt  Wealthy  had 
spoken  in  an  undertone,  the  words  had  reached 
her  ear. 

"  Which  will  you  have,  dearies  ?  "  said  the 
old  lady,  drawing  near  the  young  girls'  corner, 
"  travilla  cream  or  melon  ?  " 

"  Lemon  for  me,  if  you  please,  Aunt  Wealthy.  * 
replied  Lottie. 

"And  I  will  take  Travilla,"  Elsie  said,  low 
and  mischieyously,  and  with  a  merry  twinkle  in 
her  eye. 

"  But  you  haye  no  cake  !  your  plate  is  quite 
empty  and  useless, "  exclaimed  the  aunt.  "  Hor- 
ace," turning  toward  her  nephew,  who  was  chat- 
ting with  the  doctor  at  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  "  some  of  this  cake  is  yery  plain  ;  you  don't 
object  to  Elsie  eating  a  little  of  it  ?  " 

"  She  is  quite  grown  up  now,  aunt,  and  can 
judge  for  herself  in  such  matters,"  he  answered 
smiling,  then  turned  to  finish  what  he  had  been 
saying  to  the  doctor. 

"  You  will  haye  some  then,  dear,  won't  you  ?  " 
Miss  Stanhope  inquired  in  her  most  coaxing  tone. 

"A  yery  small  slice  of  this  sponge  cake,  if 
you  please,  auntie." 

"  How  young  Mr.  Trayilla  looks,"  remarked 
Lottie,  "  younger  I  think,  than  he  did  four  years 
ago.  Happiness,  I  presume  ;  it's  said  to  haye  that 
effect.  I  believe  I  was  vexed  when  1  first  heard 
you  were  engaged  to  him,  because  I  thought  he 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  14& 

was  too  old ;  but  really  he  doesn't  look  so ;  a 
man  should  be  considerably  older  than  his  wife, 
that  she  may  find  it  easier  to  look  up  to  him  ; 
and  he  know  the  better  how  to  take  care  of  her.* 

"  I  would  not  have  him  a  day  younger,  except 
that  he  would  like  to  be  nearer  my  age,  or  dif- 
ferent in  any  way  from  what  he  is,"  Elsie  said, 
her  eyes  involuntarily  turning  in  Mr.  Travilla'e 
direction. 

They  met  the  ardent  gaze  of  his.  Both 
smiled,  and  rising  he  crossed  the  room  and 
joined  them.  They  had  a  half  hour  of  lively  chat 
together,  then  Mrs.  King  rose  to  take  leave. 

Mr.  Travilla  moved  away  to  speak  to  the 
doctor,  and  Lottie  seized  the  opportunity  to 
whisper  to  her  friend,  "  He's  just  splendid, 
Elsie !  I  don't  wonder  you  look  so  happy,  or 
that  he  secured  your  hand  and  heart  after  they 
had  been  refused  to  dukes  and  lords.  You 
see  Aunt  Wealthy  has  been  telling  me  all  about 
your  conquests  in  Europe,"  she  added,  in  answer 
to  Elsie's  look  of  surprise. 

"I  am,  indeed,  very  happy,  Lottie,"  Elsie 
replied  in  the  same  low  tone,  "  I  know  Mr.  Tra- 
villa so  thoroughly,  and  have  not  more  perfect 
confidence  in  papa's  goodness  and  love  to  me, 
than  in  his.  It  is  a  very  restful  thing  to  have 
such  a  friend." 

Dr.  King's  circumstances  had  greatly  im* 
proved  in  the  last  four  years,  so  that  he  was  quite 


LU  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

able  to  give  Lottie  the  pleasure  of  accepting  ElsieJs 
invitation^  and  at  once  gave  his  cordial  consent. 
Mrs,  King  at  first  objected  that  the  two  weeks  of 
onr  friends'  intended  stay  in  Lansdale  would  not 
give  sufficient  time  for  the  necessary  additions  to 
Lottie's  wardrobe ;  but  this  difficulty  was  over- 
come by  a  suggestion  from  Elsie.  She  would 
spend  two  or  three  weeks  in  Philadelphia,  attend- 
ing to  the  purchasing  and  making  up  of  her 
trousseau,  she  said,  and  Lottie's  dresses  could 
be  bought  and  made  at  the  same  time  and  place. 

The  two  weeks  allotted  to  Lansdale  of  course 
passed  very  rapidly  ;  especially  to  Harry,  to  whom 
the  society  of  these  new-found  relatives  was  a 
great  pleasure,  and  who  on  their  departure  would 
be  left  behind,  with  only  Phillis  for  his  house- 
keeper. 

The  latter  received  so  many  charges  from 
Aunt  Wealthy  in  regard  to  careful  attention  to 
"  Mr.  Harry's "  health  and  comfort,  that  at 
length  she  grew  indignant,  and  protested  that  she 
loved  "  Mr.  Harry  as  if  he  was  her  own  child — 
didn't  she  nuss  him  when  he  was  a  little  feller  ? 
and  there  was  no  'casion  for  missus  to  worry  an5 
fret  as  if  she  was  leavin'  him  to  a  stranger. " 

It  was  not  for  want  of  a  cordial  invitation  to 
both  the  Oaks  and  Ion  that  Harry  was  left 
behind ;  but  business  required  his  presence  at 
home,  and  he  could  only  promise  himself  a 
week's  /"">liday  at  the  time  of  the  wedding. 


<%ter  CW% 


"Bring  flowers,  fresh  flowers  for  the  bride  to  wear  ; 
They  were  born  to  blush  in  her  ehining  hair  ; 
She's  iearing  the  home  of  her  childhood's  mirth  J 
She  hath  bid  farewell  to  her  father' e  hearth  ; 
Her  place  is  now  by  another's  eide  ; 
Bring  flowers  for  the  locks  of  the  fair  young  bride," 

— MBB.   H23L42J8. 

A  faie  October  day  is  waning,  and  as  the 
shadows  deepen  and  the  stars  shine  out  here  and 
there  in  the  darkening  sky,  the  grounds  at  the 
Oaks  glitter  with  colored  lamps,  swinging  from 
the  branches  of  the  trees  that  shade  the  long 
green  alleys,  and  dependent  from  arches 
wreathed  with  flowers.  In  doors  and  out  every- 
thing wears  a  festive  look  ;  almost  the  whole 
house  is  thrown  open  to  the  guests  who  will 
presently  come  thronging  to  it  from  nearly  every 
plantation  for  miles  around. 

The  grand  wedding  has  been  talked  of,  pre- 
pared for,  and  looked  forward  to  for  months 
past,  and  few,  if  any,  favored  with  an  invitation, 
will  willingly  stay  away. 

The    spacious    entrance    nail  is    brilliantly 


146  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

lighted,  and  on  either  hand  wide-open  doors 
give  admission  to  long  suites  of  richly,  tastefully 
furnished  rooms,  beautiful  with  rare  statuary, 
paintings,  articles  of  vertu,  and  flowera  scat- 
tered everywhere,  in  bouquets,  wreaths,  festoons, 
filling  the  air  with  their  delicious  fragrance. 

These  apartments,  waiting  for  the  guests,  are 
almost  entirely  deserted  ;  but  in  Elsie's  dressing- 
room  a  bevy  of  gay  young  girls,  in  white  tarletan 
and  with  flowers  in  their  elaborately  dressed 
hair,  are  laughing  and  chatting  merrily,  and 
now  and  then  offering  a  suggestion  to  Aunt 
Chloe  and  Dinah,  whose  busy  hands  are  arrang- 
ing their  young  mistress  for  her  bridal. 

" Lovely!"  "Charming!"  Perfect!"  the 
girls  exclaim  in  delighted,  admiring  chorus,  as  the 
tirewomen  having  completed  their  labors,  Elsie 
stands  before  them  in  a  dress  of  the  richest 
white  satin,  with  an  overskirt  of  point  lace,  a 
veil  of  the  same,  enveloping  her  slender  figure 
like  an  airy  cloud,  or  morning  mist,  reaching 
from  the  freshly  gathered  orange  blossoms 
wreathed  in  the  shining  hair  to  the  tiny  white 
satin  slipper  just  peeping  from  beneath  the  rich 
folds  of  the  dress.  Flowers  are  her  only  orna^ 
ment  to-night,  and  truly  she  needs  no  other. 

"  Perfect !  nothing  superfluous,  nothing 
wanting,"  says  Lottie  King. 

Rose,  looking  almost  like  a  young  girl  herself, 
so  sweet  and  fair  in  her  beautiful  evening  dress, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  141 

came  in  at  that  instant  to  see  if  all  was  right  is 
the  bride's  attire.  Her  eyes  grew  misty  while  she 
gazed,  her  heart  swelling  with  a  strange  mixture 
of  emotions  :  love,  joy,  pride,  and  a  touch  of 
sadness  at  the  thought  of  the  partial  loss  that 
night  was  to  bring  to  her  beloved  husband  and 
herself. 

"  Am  I  all  right,  mamma  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"I  can  see  nothing  amiss,"  Rose  answered, 
with  a  slight  tremble  in  her  voice.  "My  dar- 
ling, I  never  saw  you  so  wondrously  sweet  and 
fair,'*  she  whispered,  adjusting  a  fold  of  the 
drapeiy.     "  You  are  very  happy  ?  " 

"  Yery,  mamma  dear :  yet  a  trifle  sad  too. 
But  that  is  a  secret  between  you  and  me.  Ho^ 
beautiful  you  are  to-night." 

' ' Ah,  dear  child,  quite  ready,  and  the  loveh« 
est  bride  that  ever  I  saw,  from  the  sole  of  your 
head  to  the  crown  of  your  foot,"  said  a  silvery 
voice,  as  a  quaint  little  figure  came  softly  in  and 
stood  at  Mrs.  Dinsmore's  side — "no,  I  mean 
from  the  crown  of  your  foot  to  the  solo  of  your 
head.  Ah,  funerals  are  almost  as  sad  as  wed- 
dings. I  don't  know  how  people  can  ever  teol 
like  dancing  at  them." 

"  Well,  auntie  dear,  there'll  be  no  dancing  at 
mine,"  said  Elsie,  smiling  slightly. 

"I  must  go  and  be  ready  to  receive  on? 
guests,"  said  Eose,  hearing  the  rumble  of  car- 
liage  wheels.   "  Elsie,  dear  child,"  she  whispered3 


148  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

*  keep  calm.  You  can  have  no  doubts  or  fears 
in  putting  your  future  in — " 

"  No,  no,  mamma,  not  the  slightest, "  and 
the  fair  face  grew  radiant. 

As  Rose  passed  out  at  one  door,  Miss  Stanhope 
following,  with  a  parting  injunction  to  the  bride 
not  to  grow  frightened  or  nervous,  Mr.  Dinsmore 
entered  by  another. 

He  stood  a  moment  silently  gazing  upon  his 
lovely  daughter ;  then  a  slight  motion  of  his 
hand  sent  all  others  from  the  room,  the  brides- 
maids passing  into  the  boudoir,  where  the  groom 
and  his  attendants  were  already  assembled,  the 
tirewomen  vanishing  by  a  door  on  the  opposite 
side. 

"  My  darling  ! "  murmured  the  father,  in 
low,  half  tremulous  accents,  putting  his  arm  about 
the  slender  waist,  "  my  beautiful  darling !  how 
can  I  give  you  to  another  ?  "  and  again  and  again 
his  lips  were  pressed  to  hers  in  long,  passionate 
kisses. 

"Papa,  please  don't  make  me  cry,"  she 
pleaded,  the  soft  eyes  lifted  to  his,  filled  almost  to 
overflowing. 

"  No,  no,  I  must  not,"  he  said,  hastily  taking 
out  his  handkerchief  and  wiping  away  the  tears 
before  they  fell.  "  It  is  shamefully  selfish  in  me 
to  come  and  disturb  your  mind  thus  just  now." 

"  No,  papa,  no,  no  ;  I  will  not  have  you  say 
that     Thank  you  for  coming.     It  would  have 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  14* 

hurt  me  had  you  stayed  away.  But  yon  would 
not  have  things  different  now  if  you  could  ?  ha^ 
no  desire  to." 

"  No,  daughter,  no ;  yet,  unreasonable  as  it 
is,  the  thought  will  come,  bringing  sadness  with 
it,  that  to-night  you  resign  my  name,  and  my 
house  ceases  to  be  your  only  home." 

"  Papa,  I  shall  never  resign  the  name  dear  to 
me  because  inherited  from  you  :  I  shall  only  add 
to  it ;  your  house  shall  always  be  one  of  my  dear 
homes,  and  I  shall  be  your  own,  own  daughter, 
your  own  child,  as  truly  as  I  ever  have  been.  Is 
it  not  so?" 

"Yes,  yes,  my  precious  little  comforter." 

"And  you  are  not  going  to  give  me  away — 
ah,  papa,  I  could  never  bear  that  any  more  than 
you  ;  you  are  taking  a  partner  in  the  concern," 
she  added  with  playful  tenderness,  smiling  archly 
through  gathering  tears. 

Again  he  wiped  them  hastily  away.  "Did 
ever  father  have  such  a  dear  daughter  ? "  he 
said,  gazing  fondly  down  into  the  sweet  face. 
"  I  ought  to  be  the  happiest  of  men.  I  believe 
I  am—" 

"  Except  one,"  exclaimed  a  joyous  voice,  at; 
sound  of  which  Elsie's  eyes  brightened  and 
the  color  deepened  on  her  cheek.  "May  I 
come  in  ?  " 

"Yes,  Travilla,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  ;  "yon 
have  now  an  equal  right  with  me." 


160  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Travilla  thought  his  wa3  superior,  or  would 
be  after  the  ceremony,  but  generously  refrained 
from  saying  so.  And  had  Mr.  Dinsniore  been 
questioned  on  the  subject,  he  could  not  haye 
asserted  that  it  had  ever  occurred  to  him  that 
Mr.  Allison  had  an  equal  right  with  himself  in 
Rose.     But  few  people  are  entirely  consistent. 

Mr.  Travilla  drew  near  the  two,  still  stand- 
ing together,  and  regarded  his  bride  with  a 
countenance  beaming  with  love  and  delight. 
The  sweet  eyes  sought  his  questioningly,  and 
meeting  his  ardent  gaze  the  beautiful  face 
sparkled  all  over  with  smiles  and  blushes. 

"Does  my  toilet  please  you,  my  friend ?" 
she  asked.     "  And  you,  papa  ?" 

"  The  general  effect  is  charming,"  said  Mr. 
Travilla  ;  "but,"  he  added,  in  low,  tender  tones 
saying  far  more  than  the  words,  "  I've  been  able 
to  see  nothing  else  for  the  dear  face  that  is 
always  that  to  me." 

"  I  can  see  no  flaw  in  face  or  attire,"  Mr.  Dins- 
more  said,  taking  a  more  critical  survey  ;  "  you 
are  altogether  pleasing  in  your  doting  fathers 
eyes,  my  darling.  But  you  must  not  stand  any 
longer.  You  will  need  all  your  strength  for  your 
journey."    And  he  would  have  led  her  to  a  sofa. 

But  she  gently  declined.  "Ah,  I  am  much 
too  fine  to  sit  down  just  now,  my  dear,  kind  father, 
I  should  crush  my  lace  badly.  So  please  let  me 
stand.     I  am  not  conscious  of  weariness." 


ELSIE'S  WOMAimOOD,  151 

He  yielded,  saying  with  a  smile.  "Thai 
would  be  a  pity  ;  for  it  is  very  beautiful.  And 
surely  you  ought  to  be  allowed  your  own  way  to- 
night if  ever." 

"To-night  and  ever  after,"  whispered  the 
happy  groom  in  the  ear  of  his  bride. 

A  loving,  trustful  look  was  her  only  answer, 

A  continued  rolling  of  wheels  without,  and 
buzz  of  yoices  coming  from  veranda,  hall,  and 
reception  rooms,  could  now  be  heard. 

"  The  house  must  be  filling  fast,"  saia  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  "and  as  host  I  should  be  preseat  to 
receive  and  welcome  my  guests,  Travilia,"  and 
his  voice  trembled  slightly,  as  he  took  Elsie's 
right  hand  and  held  it  for  a  moment  closely 
clasped  in  his  ;  "I  do  not  fear  to  trust  you  with 
what  is  to  me  a  greater  treasure  than  ail  the 
gold  of  California.  Cherish  my  darling  as  the 
apple  of  your  eye  ;  I  know  you  will." 

He  bent  down  for  another  silent  caress,  laid 
the  hand  in  that  of  his  friend,  and  left  the  room, 

"  And  you  do  not  fear  to  trust  me,  my  little 
friend  f  "  Travilla's  tones,  too,  were  tremulous 
with  deep  feeling.  "  I  have  not  the  shadow  of 
a  fear,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  meeting  his  w.fch 
$n  earnest,  childlike  confidence. 

"  Bless  you  for  those  words,  dearest,"  he  axl'\  ; 
M  God  helping  me  you  never  shall  have  cause?  to 
regret  them." 

A  door  opened,  and  a  handsome,  dark  eyed 


153  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

hoy,  a  miniature  likeness  of  his  father,  cam* 
hurrying  in.  "  Elsie  !  Papa  said  I  might  come 
and  see  how  beautiful  you  are  ! "  he  cried,  as  if 
resolutely  mastering  some  strong  emotion,  "  but 
I'm  not  to  say  anything  to  make  you  cry.  I'm 
not  to  hug  you  hard  and  spoil  your  dress.  Oh, 
but  you  do  look  like  an  angel,  only  without  the 
wings.  Mr.  Travilla,  you'll  be  good,  good  to  her, 
won't  you  ?  "  and  the  voice  almost  broke  down. 

"I  will,  indeed,  Horace;  you  may  be  sure 
of  that.  And  you  needn't  feel  as  if  you  are 
losing  her  ,  she'll  be  back  again  in  a  few  weeks, 
please  G-od." 

"  But  not  to  live  at  home  any  more  ! "  he  cried 
impetuously.     "  No,  no,  I  wasn't  to  say  that,  I — " 

"Come  here  and  kiss  me,  my  dear  little 
brother,"  Elsie  said  tenderly  ;  "  and  you  shall 
hug  me,  too,  as  hard  as  you  like,  before  I  go." 

He  was  not  slow  to  accept  the  invitation, 
and  evidently  had  a  hard  struggle  with  himseL 
to  refrain  from  giving  the  forbidden  hug. 

"  You  may  hug  me  instead,  Horace,  if  you 
like,"  said  Mr.  Travilla ;  "you  know  we're  very 
fond  of  each  other,  and  are  going  to  be  brothers 
now." 

"  Yes,  that  I  will,  for  I  do  like  you  ever  so 
much,"  cried  the  boy,  springing  into  the  arm* 
held  out  to  him,  and  receiving  and  returning  a 
warm  embrace,  while  the  sister  looked  on  with 
eyes  glistening  with  pleasure 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  163 

"Now,  in  a  few  minutes  Fll  become  yonr 
brother  Edward  ;  and  that's  what  I  want  you  to 
call  me  in  future.     Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir  ;  if  papa  doesn't  forbid  me." 

A  light  tap  at  the  door  leading  into  the  bou- 
doir, and  Walter  put  in  his  head.  "  The  com- 
pany, the  clergyman,  and  the  hour  have  come. 
Are  the  bride  and  groom  ready  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Eeleasing-  the  child,  Mr.  Trayilla  drew  Elsie's 
hand  within  his  arm.  For  an  instant  he  bent 
his  eyes  with  earnest,  questioning  gaze  upon  her 
face.  It  wore  an  expression  that  touched  him  to 
the  heart,  so  perfectly  trustful,  so  calmly,  peace- 
fully happy,  yet  with  a  deep  tender  solemnity 
mingling  with  and  subduing  her  joy.  The  soft 
eyes  were  misty  with  unshed  tears  as  she  lifted 
them  to  his. 

"  It  is  for  life,"  she  whispered  ;  "  and  I  am 
but  young  and  foolish  ;  shall  you  never  regret  ?  " 

"Never,  never;  unless  you  grow  weary  of 
your  choice." 

The  answering  smile  was  very  sweet  and  con- 
fiding. "  I  have  not  chosen  lightly,  and  do  not 
fear  because  it  is  for  life,"  was  its  unspoken 
language. 

And  truly  it  was  no  nasty,  ill-considered  step 
she  was  taking,  but  one  that  had  been  calmly, 
thoughtfully  pondered  in  many  an  hour  of  soli- 
tude and  communion  with  that  unseen  Friend 
7* 


154  ELBIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

whom  from  earliest  youth  she  had  acknowledge? 
in  all  her  ways,  and  who  had,  according  to  His 
promise,  directed  her  paths.  There  was  no  ex- 
citement, no  nervous  tremor,  about  her  then  01 
during  the  short  ceremony  that  made  them  no 
more  twain  but  one  flesh.  So  absorbed  was  she 
in  the  importance  and  solemnity  of  the  act  she 
was  performing,  that  little  room  *us  left  for 
thought  of  anything  else — her  personal  appear- 
ance, or  the  hundreds  of  pairs  of  eyes  fixed  upon 
her  ;  even  her  father's  presence,  and  the  emo- 
tions swelling  in  his  breast  were  for  the  time  for- 
gotten. Many  marked  the  rapt  expression  of 
her  face,  and  the  clear  and  distinct  though  low 
tones  of  the  sweet  voice  as  she  pledged  herself  to 
"love,  honor,  and  obey."  Mr.  Travilla's  promise 
"  to  love,  honor,  and  cherish  to  life's  end,"  was 
given  no  less  earnestly  and  emphatically. 

The  deed  was  done ;  and  relatives  and  friends 
gathered  about  them  with  kindly  salutations  and 
good  wishes. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  the  first  to  salute  the 
bride.  "  God  bless  and  keep  you,  my  daugh- 
ter," were  his  tenderly  whispered  words. 

^Dear,  dear  papa,"  was  all  she  said  in 
response,  but  her  eyes  spoke  volumes.  "  I  am 
yours  still,  your  very  own,  and  glad  it  is  so,55 
they  said. 

Then  came  Rose  with  her  tender,  silent 
caress,  half -sorrowful,  half -joyful,  and  Mrs.  T#- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  155 

villa  with  her  altogether  joyous  salutation,  "  My 
dear  daughter,  may  your  cup  of  happiness  be 
8Ter  filled  to  overflowing ; "  while  Mr.  Dinsmore 
to  hide  his  emotion  turned  jocosely  to  Travilla 
with  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  and  "  I  wish 
yon  joy,  my  son." 

"Thank  you,  father,"  returned  the  groom 
gravely,  but  with  a  twinkle  of  merriment  in 
his  eye. 

Aunt  Wealthy,  standing  close  by  awaiting  her 
turn  to  greet  the  bride,  shook  her  head  at  her 
nephew.  "  Ah,  you  are  quite  too  old  for  that, 
Horace.  Mr.  Vanilla,  I  wish  you  joy ;  but  what 
am  I  to  call  you  now  ?  " 

"  Edward,  if  you  please,  Aunt  Wealthy." 

"  Ah,  yes,  that  will  do  nicely ;  it's  a  good 
name — so  easily  forgotten.  Elsie,  dearie,  you 
went  through  it  brave  as  a  lion.  May  you  never 
wish  you'd  lived  your  lane  like  your  auld  auntie." 

"  As  if  single  blessedness  could  ever  be  real 
blessedness  1 "  sneered  Enna,  coming  up  just  in 
time  to  catch  the  last  words. 

"  Our  feelings  change  as  we  grow  older," 
returned  Miss  Stanhope,  in  her  gentle,  refined 
tones,  "and  we  come  to  look  upon  quiet  and 
freedom  from  care  as  very  desirable  things." 

"  And  I  venture  to  say  that  old  age  is  not 
likely  to  find  Mrs.  Percival  so  happy  and  con- 
tented as  is  my  dear  old  maiden  aunt,"  remarked 
Mr.  Dinsmore. 


156  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Yet  we  will  hope  it  may,  papa,"  said  Elsie, 
receiving  Enna's  salutaticn  with  kindly  warmth. 

But  the  list  of  relatives,  near  connections,  and 
and  intimate  friends,  is  too  long  for  particular 
mention  of  each.  All  the  Dinsmores  were  there, 
both  married  and  single  ;  also  most  of  the  Alli- 
sons. Harold  had  not  come  with  the  others,  nor 
had  he  either  accepted  or  rejected  the  invitation. 

On  first  raising  her  eye3  upon  the  conclusion 
of  the  ceremony,  had  Elsie  really  seen,  far  back 
in  the  shadow  of  the  door-way,  a  face  white,  rigid, 
hopeless  with  misery  as  his  when  last  they  met 
and  parted  ?  She  could  not  tell ;  for  if  really 
there,  it  vanished  instantly. 

"  Did  Harold  come  ?  "  she  asked  of  Richard 
when  he  came  to  salute  the  bride  and  groom. 

"  I  think  not ;  I  haven't  seen  him,  I  can't 
think  what's  come  over  the  lad  to  be  so  neglect- 
ful of  his  privileges." 

Harry  Duncan  was  there,  too,  hanging  upon 
the  smiles  of  merry,  saucy,  blue-eyed  May  Alli- 
son ;  while  her  brother  Richard  seemed  equally 
enamored  with  the  brunette  beauty  and  spright- 
liness  of  Lottie  King. 

Stiffness  and  constraint  found  no  place 
among  the  guests,  after  the  event  of  the  evening 
was  over. 

In  the  great  dining-room  a  sumptuous  ban- 
quet was  laid ;  and  thither,  after  a  time,  gue#& 
and  entertainers  repaired. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  15? 

The  table  sparkled  with  cut-glass,  rare  and 
costly  china,  and  solid  silver  and  gold  plate. 
Every  delicacy  from  far  and  near  was  to  be 
found  upon  it ;  nothing  wanting  that  the  most 
fastidious  could  desire,  or  the  most  lavish  expen- 
diture furnish.  Lovely,  fragrant  flowers  were? 
there  also  in  the  utmost  profusion,  decorating 
the  board,  festooning  the  windows  and  door- 
ways, in  bouquets  upon  the  mantels  and  antique 
stands,  scattered  here  and  there  through  the 
apartment,  filliug  the  air  with  their  perfume ; 
while  a  distant  and  unseen  band  discoursed 
sweetest  music  in  soft,  delicious  strains. 

The  weather  was  warmer  far  than  at  thai 
season  in  our  northern  clime,  the  outside  air 
balmy  and  delightful,  and  through  the  wide- 
open  doors  and  windows  glimpses  might  be 
caught  of  the  beautiful  grounds,  lighted  here  and 
there  by  a  star-like  lamp  shining  out  among  the 
foliage.  Silent  and  deserted  they  had  been  all 
the  earlier  part  of  the  evening,  but  now  group 
after  group,  as  they  left  the  bountiful  board, 
wandered  into  their  green  alleys  and  gay  par- 
terres ;  low,  musical  tones,  light  laughter,  and 
merry  jests  floating  out  upon  the  quiet  night 
adr  and  waking  the  echoes  of  the  hills. 

But  the  bride  retired  to  her  own  apartments, 
where  white  satin,  veil,  and  orange  blossoms, 
were  quickly  exchanged  for  an  elegant  travelling 
dress,  scarcely  less  becoming  to  her  rare  beauty. 


158  EL8IE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

She  reappeared  in  the  library,  Thich  had  not 
been  thrown  open  to  the  guests,  but  where  the 
relations  and  bridesmaids  were  gathered  for  the 
final  good-by. 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  family  carriage,  roomy,  easy- 
rolling,  and  softly  cushioned,  stood  at  the  door 
upon  the  drive,  its  spirited  grey  horses  pawing 
the  ground  with  impatience  to  be  gone.  It 
would  carry  the  bride  and  groom — and  a  less  pre- 
tentious vehicle  their  servants — in  two  hours  to  the 
seaport  where  they  were  to  take  the  steamer  for 
New  Orleans ;  for  their  honey-moon  was  to  be 
spent  at  Viamede,  Elsie  still  adhering  to  the  plan 
of  a  year  ago. 

Her  adieus  were  gayly  given  to  one  and  an- 
other, beginning  with  those  least  dear  ;  very  very 
affectionately  to  Mrs.  Travilla,  Aunt  Wealthy, 
Rose,  and  the  little  Horace  (the  sleeping  Rose- 
bud had  already  been  softly  kissed  in  her  crib). 

Her  idolized  father  only  remained ;  and  now 
all  her  gayety  forsook  her,  all  her  calmness  gave 
way,  and  clinging  about  his  neck,  "  Papa,  papa, 
oh  papa ! "  she  cried,  with  a  burst  of  tears 
and  iobs. 

**  Holy  and  pore  are  tbe  drops  that  fill, 
When  the  young  bride  go**  from  her  father's  hall ; 
She  goes  onto  lore  yet  untried  and  new— 
She  parti  from  lore  which  heth  §tiU  been  true.** 

it  was  his  turn  now  to  comfort  her,  u  Dar- 
ling   daughter,"    he   said,   caressing   her   witfc 


EL81L  8  WOMANHOOD,  15t 

exceeding  tenderness,  "  we  do  not  part  for  long. 
Should  it  please  God  to  spare  our  lives,  I  shall 
have  my  precious  one  in  my  arms  in  a  few  short 
weeks.  Meantime  we  can  have  a  little  talk  on 
paper  every  day.     Shall  we  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear,  dear,  precious  father." 

Mr.  Tra villa  stood  hy  with  a  face  full  of  com- 
passionate tenderness.  Putting  one  hand  into 
her  father's,  Elsie  turned,  gave  him  the  other, 
and  together  they  led  her  to  the  carriage  and 
placed  her  in  it.  There  was  a  hearty,  lingering 
hand-shaking  between  the  two  gentlemen.  Mr. 
Travilla  took  his  seat  by  Elsie's  side,  and  amid 
a  chorus  of  good-bys  they  were  whirled  rapidly 
away. 

"  Cheer  up,  my  dear,"  said  Rosa,  leaning 
affectionately  on  her  husband's  arm  ;  "it  is  alto- 
gether addition  and  not  subtraction  ;  you  have 
not  lost  a  daughter  but  gained  a  son." 

"  These  rooms  tell  a  different  tale,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  sigh.  "  How  desolate  they  eeenu 
But  this  is  no  time  for  the  indulgence  of  sad 
ness.  We  must  return  to  our  guests,  and  see 
that  all  goes  merry  as  a  marriage  bell  with  them 
till  the  last  has  taken  his  departure," 


"My  bride, 
My  wife,  my  life.    O  we  will  walk  this  world 
Yok'd  in  all  exercise  of  noble  aim 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  across  the  wild 
That  no  man  knows." 

— Trf—vsOBfi  Psncosss. 

Elsie's  tears  were  falling  fast,  but  an  arm  as 
strong  and  kind  as  her  father's  stole  quietly 
about  her,  a  hand  as  gentle  and  tender  as  a 
woman's  drew  the  weary  head  to  a  resting-place 
on  her  husband's  shoulder,  smoothed  back  the 
hair  from  the  heated  brow,  and  wiped  away  the 
falling  drops. 

"  My  wife  !  my  own  precious  little  wife  I " 

How  the  word,  the  tone,  thrilled  her !  her 
very  heart  leaped  for  joy  through  all  the  pain  of 
parting  from  one  scarcely  less  dear.  "  My  hus- 
band," she  murmured,  low  and  shyly — it  seemed 
so  strange  to  call  him  that,  so  almost  bold  and 
forward — "my  dear,  kind  friend,  to  be  neither 
hurt  nor  angry  at  my  foolish  weeping." 

"  Not  foolish,  dear  one,  but  perfectly  natural 
snd  right     I  understand  it ;  I  who  know  so  well 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  161 

what  your  father  has  been  to  you  these  many 
years." 

"Father  and  mother  both." 

"Yes;  tutor,  friend,  companion,  confidant, 
everything.  I  know,  dear  little  wife,  that  you 
are  sacrificing  much  for  me,  even  though  the 
separation  will  be  but  partial.  And  how  I  love 
you  for  it,  and  for  all  you  are  to  me,  God  only 
knows." 

The  tears  had  ceased  to  flow  ;  love,  joy,  and 
thankfulness  were  regaining  their  ascendancy  in 
the  heart  of  the  youthful  bride  ;  she  became  again 
calmly,  serenely  happy. 

The  journey  was  accomplished  without  acci- 
dent. They  were  favored  with  warm,  bright 
days,  clear,  starlit  nights ;  and  on  as  lovely  an 
afternoon  as  was  ever  known  in  that  delicious 
clime,  reached  Viamede. 

Great  preparations  had  been  made  for  their 
reception  ;  banners  were  streaming,  and  flags 
flying  from  balconies  and  tree-tops.  Mr.  Mason 
met  them  at  the  pier  with  a  face  beaming  with 
delight ;  Spriggs  with  a  stiff  bow.  A  gun  was 
fired  and  a  dram  began  to  beat  as  they  stepped 
ashore ;  two  pretty  mulatto  girls  scattered  flow- 
ers in  their  path,  and  passing  under  a  grand 
triumphal  ar?h  they  presently  found  themselvea 
between  two  long  rows  of  smiling,  bowing  ne- 
groes, whose  fervent  ejaculations:  "  God  bless  our 
*lear  young  missus  an'  her  husband  ! "  "  God  bless 


16%  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

yon,  inassa  an'  missus!"  "Welcome  home  P 
"  Welcome  to  Yiamede  ! "  "  We've  not  forgot 
you,  Miss  Elsie  ;  you's  as  welcome  as  de  day- 
light ! "  affected  our  tender-hearted  heroine 
almost  to  tears. 

She  had  a  kind  word  for  each,  remembering 
all  their  names,  and  inquiring  after  their  "mis- 
eries "  ;  every  one  was  permitted  to  take  her  small 
white  hand,  many  of  them  kissing  it  with  fervent 
affection.  They  were  introduced  to  their  "  new 
master,"  too  (that  was  what  she  called  him),  and 
shaken  hands  with  by  him  in  a  cordial,  inter- 
ested way  that  won  their  hearts  at  once. 

Aunt  Phillis  was  in  her  glory,  serving  up  a 
feast  the  preparation  of  which  had  exhausted 
the  united  skill  of  both  Aunt  Sally  and  herself. 
Their  efforts  were  duly  appreciated  and  praised, 
the  viands  evidently  greatly  enjoyed,  all  to  their 
intense  delight. 

Mr.  Mason  was  invited  to  partake  with  the 
bride  and  groom,  and  assigned  the  seat  of  honor 
at  Mr.  Travilla's  right  hand.  Elsie  presided 
over  the  tea-urn  with  the  same  gentle  dignity 
and  grace  as  when  her  father  occupied  the  chair 
at  the  opposite  end  of  the  table,  now  filled  by 
her  husband.  Her  travelling  dress  had  been 
exchanged  for  one  of  simple  white,  and  there 
were  white  flowers  in  her  hair  and  at  her  throat 
Very  sweet  and  charming  she  looked,  not  only 
ta  the  eyes  of  her  husband,  who  seemed  to  find 


ELSIE' is  WOMANHOOD,  163 

her  fair  face  a  perpetual  feast,  but  in  those  of  all 
others  who  saw  her. 

On  leaving  the  table  they  repaired  to  the 
library,  where  Mr.  Mason  gave  a  report  of  the 
condition  of  the  people  and  his  work  among 
them,  also  assuring  Mrs.  Trayilla  that  Spriggs 
had.  carefully  carried  out  her  wishes,  that  the 
prospect  for  the  crops  was  fine,  and  everything 
on  the  estate  in  excellent  order. 

She  expressed  her  gratification,  appealing  to 
Mr.  Trayilla  for  his  approval,  which  was  cor- 
dially given  ;  said  she  had  brought  a  little  gift 
for  each  of  the  people,  and  desired  they  should 
be  sent  up  to  the  house  about  sunset  the  next 
evening  to  receive  it. 

The  chaplain  promised  that  her  order  should 
be  attended  to,  then  retired,  leaving  husband  and 
wife  alone  together. 

"  All  very  satisfactory,  my  little  friend,  was 
it  not  ?  "  said  Mr.  Travilla. 

"  Yes,  sir,  very.  I'm  so  glad  to  have  secured 
such  a  man  as  Mr.  Mason  to  look  after  the  wel- 
fare of  these  poor  helpless  creatures.  And  you 
like  the  house,  Mr.  Travilla,  do  you  not  ? " 

"  Very  much,  so  far  as  I  have  seen  it.  Thia 
is  a  beautiful  room,  and  the  dining-room  pleased 
me  equally  well. n 

"  Ah,  I  am  eager  to  show  you  all  1 "  she  cried, 
rising  quickly  and  laying  her  hand  on  the  belt 


164  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

rope.  "  Stay,  little  wife,  not  to-night,"  he  said, 
"you  are  too  much  fatigued." 

She  glided  to  the  back  of  the  easy  chair  in 
■tfhich  he  sat,  and  leaning  over  him,  said  laugh- 
ingly, "  I'm  not  conscious  of  being  fatigued, 
but  I  have  promised  to  obey  and — " 

"Hush,  hush  I"  he  said  flushing,  "I  meant 
to  have  that  left  out ;  and  did  I  not  tell  you 
you  were  to  have  your  own  way  that  night  and 
ever  after  ?  You've  already  done  enough  of  obey- 
ing to  last  you  a  life-time.  But  please  come 
round  where  I  can  see  you  better."  Then,  as 
she  stepped  to  his  side,  he  threw  an  arm  about 
her  and  drew  her  to  his  knee. 

"  But  it  wasn't  left  ">ut,"  she  said,  shyly 
returning  his  fond  caress;  "I  promised  and 
must  keep  my  word." 

"  Ah,  but  if  you  can't,  you  can't ;  how  will 
you  obey  when  you  get  no  orders  ?  " 

"  So  you  don't  mearj  to  give  me  any  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed ;  I'm  your  husband,  your 
friend,  your  protector,  your  lover,  but  not  your 
master." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Travilla— " 

"  I  asked  you  to  call  me  Edward." 

"  But  it  seems  so  disrespectful." 

"  More  so  than  to  remind  me  of  the  disparity 
of  our  years  ?  or  than  to  disregard  my  earnest 
wish  ?  Then  I  think  I'll  have  to  require  the 
keeping  of  the  promise  in  this  one  thing.     Say 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  165 

Edward,  little  wife,  and  never  again  call  me  Mr, 
Tra villa  when  we  are  alone." 

"  Well,  Edward,  I  will  try  to  obey  ;  and  if  I 
use  the  wrong  word  through  forgetfulness  you 
must  please  excuse  it.  But  ah,  I  remember 
papa  would  say  that  was  no  excuse." 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  so  strict — unless  you  for- 
get too  often.  I  have  sometimes  thought  my 
friend  too  hard  with  his  tender-hearted,  sensitive 
little  daughter." 

"  Don't  blame  him — my  dear,  dear  father  ! " 
she  said,  low  and  tremulously,  her  face  growing 
grave  and  almost  sad  for  the  moment.  "He 
was  very  strict,  it  is  true,  but  none  too  strict  in 
the  matter  of  requiring  prompt  and  implicit 
obedience,  and  oh,  so  kind,  so  loving,  so  tender, 
so  sympathizing.  I  could,  and  did  go  to  him 
with  every  little  childish  joy  and  sorrow,  every 
trouble,  vexation,  and  perplexity  ;  always  sure  of 
sympathy,  and  help,  too,  if  needed.  Never  once 
did  he  repulse  me,  or  show  himself  an  unin- 
terested listener. 

"He  would  take  me  on  his  knee,  hear  all  I 
had  to  say,  clasp  me  close  to  his  heart,  caress  me, 
call  me  pet  names,  joy,  sorrow  with,  or  counsel 
me  as  the  case  required,  and  bid  me  always  come 
freely  to  him  so,  a-ssuring  me  that  nothing  which 
concerned  me,  one  way  or  another,  was  too  trivial 
to  interest  him,  and  he  would  be  glad  to  know  I 
had  not  a  thought  or  feeling  concealed  from 


166  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

him.  1  doubt  if  even  you,  my  friend,  have  orer 
known  all  that  papa  has  been  and  is  to  me  : 
father,  mother,  everything — but  husband,"  she 
added  with  a  blush  and  smile,  as  her  eyes  met 
the  kindly,  tender  look  in  his. 

"Ah,  that  is  my  blessed  privilege,"  he  whis- 
pered, drawing  her  closer  to  him.  "  My  wife, 
my  own  precious  little  wife  !  God  keep  me  from 
ever  being  less  tender,  loving,  sympathizing  to 
you  than  your  father  has  been." 

"I  do  not  fear  it,  my  husband.  Oh,  waa 
ever  woman  so  blessed  with  love  as  I !  Daugh- 
ter, and  wife  !  they  are  the  sweetest  of  all  names 
when  addressed  to  me  by  papa's  lips  and  yours." 

"  I  ought  not  to  find  fault  with  his  training, 
seeing  what  credit  you  do  it.  However,  you 
seemed  to  me  as  near  perfection  as  possible  before 
he  began.  Ah,  my  little  friend,  for  how  many 
years  I  loved  you  with  scarcely  a  hope  it  would 
ever  be  returned  in  the  way  I  wished.  Indeed 
I  can  hardly  yet  believe  fully  in  my  own  happi- 
ness," he  concluded  with  a  joyous  laugh.  The 
next  day  Elsie  had  the  pleasure  of  showing 
her  husband  over  the  house  first,  and  then  the 
estate.  Their  life  at  Yiamede,  for  the  few  weeks 
of  their  stay,  seemed  much  like  a  repetition  of  her 
yisit  there  the  year  before  with  her  father.  They 
took  the  same  rides,  walks,  and  drives ;  glided 
over  the  clear  waters  of  the  bayou  in  the  same 
boat ;  sought  out  each  spot  of  beauty  or  interest 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  18? 

he  had  shown  her  ;  were,  if  possible,  even  mors 
constantly  together,  reading,  writing,  or  engaged 
with  music  in  library  or  drawing-room,  seated 
side  by  side  on  veranda  or  lawn  enjoying  conver- 
sation, book  or  periodical ;  or,  it  might  be,  silently 
musing,  hand  in  hand,  by  the  soft  moonlight 
that  lent  such  a  witchery  to  the  lovely  landscape, 
A  pleaaanter  honeymoon  could  hardly  have  been 
devised. 

In  one  thing,  however,  they  were  disap- 
pointed :  they  had  hoped  to  be  left  entirely  to 
each  other  ;  but  it  was  impossiple  to  conceal  their 
presence  at  Yiamede  from  the  hospitable  neigh- 
bors, and  calls  and  invitations  had  to  be  received 
and  returned.  But,  both  being  eminently  fitted 
to  shine  in  society,  and  each  proud  to  display 
the  other,  this  state  of  things  did  not,  after  all,  so 
greatly  interfere  with  their  enjoyment. 

In  fact,  so  delightful  did  they  find  their  life 
in  that  lovely  country  that  they  lingered  week 
after  week  till  nearly  six  had  slipped  away,  and 
letters  from  home  began  to  be  urgent  for  their 
return.  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  wearying  for  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  TraT  ilia  for  her  son,  and  scarcely 
leas  for  the  daughter  so  long  vainly  hoped  for. 

Every  day  a  servant  was  despatched  to  the 
nearest  post-office  with  their  mail,  generally 
returning  as  full  handed  as  he  went.  Mr. 
Dinsmore's  letters  were,  as  he  had  promised, 
daily,  and  never  left  unanswered.     The  old  love 


168  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

was  not,  could  not  be  forgotten  in  the  now. 
Elsie  was  no  less  a  daughter  because  she  had 
become  a  wife  ;  but  Edward  was  always  a  sharer 
in  her  enjoyment,  and  she  in  his. 

They  were  sitting  on  the  veranda  one  morn 
ing  when  Uncle  Ben  rode  up  and  handed  the 
mail-box  to  his  master.     Mr.  Travilla  hastened 
to  open  it,  gave  Elsie  her  letters  and  began  the 
perusal  of  his  own. 

A  softly  breathed  sigh  called  his  attention 
to  her. 

"  What  is  it,  little  wife  ?"  he  asked ;  "youi 
face  is  grave  almost  to  sadness." 

"I  was  thinking,"  she  answered,  with  her 
eye  still  upon  hor  father's  letter  open  in  her  hand. 
"  Papa  says,"  and  she  read  aloud  from  the  sheet, 
"How  long  you  are  lingering  in  Viamede. 
When  will  you  return  ?  Tell  Travilla  I  am 
longing  for  a  sight  of  the  dear  face  his  eyes  are 
feasting  upon,  and  he  must  remember  his  pro- 
mise not  to  part  us. 

"  I  am  writing  in  your  boudoir.  I  have  been 
thinking  of  the  time  (it  seems  but  yesterday) 
when  I  had  you  here  a  little  girl,  sitting  on  my 
knee  reciting  your  lessons  or  listening  with 
almost  rapt  attention  to  my  remarks  and  expla- 
nations. Never  before  had  tutor  so  dear,  sweet, 
and  interesting  a  scholar  !  " 

•'A  fond  fathers  partiality,"  she  remarked, 
looking  up  with  a  smile  and  blush,     "  But  never, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  189 

I  am  sure,  was  such  another  tutor ;  his  lucid 
explanations,  intense  interest  in  the  subject  and 
his  pupil,  apt  illustrations,  and  fund  of  informa- 
tion constantly  opened  up  to  me,  made  my  les- 
sons a  delight." 

"  He  has  made  you  wonderfully  well  in- 
formed and  thorough,"  said  her  husband. 

She  colored  with  pleasure. 

"  Such  words  are  yery  sweet,  coming  from 
your  lips.     You  appreciate  papa." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  his  daughter  too,  I  hope," 
he  answered,  smiling  fondly  upon  her.  "  Yea, 
your  father  and  I  hare  been  like  brothers  since 
we  were  little  fellows.  It  seems  absurd  to  think 
of  him  in  any  other  relation." 

"But  what  about  going  home  ?  isn't  it  time, 
as  papa  thinks  ?  " 

"That  you  shall  decide,  machere;  our  life 
here  has  been  very  delightful  to  me,  and  to  you 
also,  I  hope." 

"  Very,  if  we  had  your  mother  and  papa  and 
mamma  and  the  children  here,  I  should  like  to 
stay  all  winter.  But  as  it  is  I  think  we  ought 
to  return  soon."  He  assented,  and  after  a  little 
more  consultation  they  decided  to  go  soon — not 
later  than  the  middle  of  the  next  week,  but  the 
day  was  not  set 
8 


CJptpto  Jrartaijj. 


**  The  low  reede  bent  by  the  streamlet's  side, 
And  hille  to  the  thunder  peal  replied  ; 
Th«  lightning  burst  on  ita  fearful  way 
^Thile  the  heavens  were  lit  in  its  red  array.  ' 

— Willis  Gatlobo  Cxaks. 

"Thither,  full  fraught  with  rnischieyoua  revenge 
Accurs'd,  and  in  a  cursed  hour  he  hies." 

—Hilton's  Pasadiss  Lost. 

They  were  alone  that  evening,  and  retired 
earlier  than  usual.  They  had  been  quietb  sleep 
ing  for  some  time  when  Elsie  was  wakened  by  a 
sudden  gust  of  wind  that  swept  round  the  house, 
rattling  doors  and  windows ;  then  followed  the 
roll  and  crash  of  thunder,  peal  on  peal,  accom- 
panied with  vivid  flashes  of  lightning. 

Elsie  was  not  timid  in  regard  to  thunder  and 
lightning ;  she  knew  so  well  that  they  were 
entirely  under  the  control  of  her  Eather,  without 
whom  not  a  hair  of  her  head  could  perish ;  she 
lay  listening  to  tha  war  of  the  elements,  thinking 
of  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "  The  clouds 
poured  out  water  :  tho  skies  sent  out  a  sound ; 
thine  arrows  also  went  abroad.     The  voice  of 


ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  172 

Ihy  thunder  was  in  the  heaven ;  the  lightning! 
lightened  the  world,  the  earth  trembled  and 
shook." 

Bat  another  sound  startled  her.  Surely  she 
heard  some  stealthy  step  on  the  veranda  upon 
which  the  windows  of  the  room  opened  (long  win- 
dows reaching  from  the  floor  almost  to  the  ceil- 
ing), and  then  a  hand  at  work  with  the  fastenings 
of  the  shutters  of  the  one  farthest  from  the  bed. 

Her  husband  lay  sleeping  by  her  side.  She 
half  raised  herself  in  the  bed,  put  her  lips  to 
his  ear,  and  shaking  him  slightly,  whispered, 
"  Edward,  some  one  is  trying  to  get  in  at  the 
window  ! " 

He  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant,  raised  him- 
self  and  while  listening  intently  took  a  loaded 
revolver  from  under  his  pillow  and  cocked  it 
ready  for  use. 

"  Lie  down,  darling,"  he  whispered  ;  "  it 
will  be  safer,  and  should  the  villain  get  in,  this 
Will  soon  settle  him,  I  think." 

"  Don't  kill  him,  if  you  can  save  yourself 
without,"  she  answered,  in  the  same  low  tone  and 
with  a  shudder. 

"No ;  if  I  could  see,  I  should  aim  for  his 
right  arm." 

A  moment  of  silent  waiting,  the  slight  sound 
of  the  burglar's  tool  faintly  heard  amid  the  noise 
of  the  storm,  then  the  shutter  flew  open,  a  man 
gtepped  in  ;  at  that  instant  a  vivid  flash  of  light- 


172  ELSlE'b  WOMANHOOD. 

ning  showed  the  three  to  each  other,  <*nd  the 
men  fired  simultaneously. 

A  heavy,  rolling  crash  of  thunder  follow&u 
close  upon  the  sharp  crack  of  the  revolvers  ;  th€ 
robber's  pistol  fell  with  a  loud  thump  upon  the 
floor  and  he  turned  and  fled  along  the  veranda, 
this  time  moving  with  more  haste  than  caution, 
They  distinctly  heard  the  flying  footsteps. 

"I  must  have  hit  him,"  said  Mr.  Travilla, 
"  Dearest,  you  are  not  hurt  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  but  you  ?  " 

"  Have  escaped  also,  thank  God,"  he  added, 
with  earnest  solemnity. 

Elsie,  springing  to  the  bell-rope,  sent  peal 
after  peal  resounding  through  the  house.  "He 
must  be  pursued,  if  possible  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  foi 
oh,  Edward,  your  life  is  in  danger  as  long  as  he  is 
at  large.     You  recognized  him  ?  " 

' '  Yes,  Tom  Jackson  ;  I  thought  him  safe  in 
prison  at  the  North ;  but  probably  he  has  been 
bailed  out ;  perhaps  by  one  of  his  own  gang ;  fox 
bo  are  the  ends  of  justice  often  defeated." 

He  was  hurrying  on  his  clothes  as  he  spoke. 
Elsie  had  hastily  donned  dressing-gown  and  slip- 
pers, and  now  struck  a  light. 

Steps  and  voices  were  heard  in  the  hall  with 
out,  while  Aunt  Chloe  coming  in  from  the  othej 
side,  asked  in  tones  tremulois   with  affright, 
"  What's  de  matter  ?  what's  de  matter,  darkV  ? 
is  you  hurted  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMAA'HOOJJ.  173 

"  No,  mammy  ;  but  there  was  a  burglar  here 
a  moment  since,"  said  Elsie.  "He  and  Mr. 
TrayiUa  fired  at  each  other,  and  he  must  be  pur- 
sued instantly.  Send  Uncle  Joe  to  rouse  Mr, 
Spriggs  and  the  boys,  and  go  after  him  with  all 
speed." 

Meantime  Mr.  Mason  was  knocking  at  the 
door  opening  into  the  hall,  asking  what  was 
wrong  and  offering  his  services;  a  number  of 
negro  men's  voices  adding,  "  Massa  and  missus, 
we's  all  heyah  and  ready  to  fight  for  ye." 

Mr.  Trayilla  opened  the  door,  briefly  ex- 
plained what  had  happened,  and  repeated  Elsie's 
order  for  an  immediate  and  hot  pursuit. 

"  I  myself  will  head  it,"  he  was  adding,  when 
she  interposed. 

"No,  no,  no,  my  husband,  surely  you  will 
not  think  of  it ;  he  may  kill  you  yet.  Or  he 
might  return  from  another  direction,  and  what 
could  I  do  with  only  the  women  to  help  me  ? 
Oh,  Edward,  don't  go  !  don't  leave  me  ! "  And 
she  clung  to  him  trembling  and  with  tears  in 
the  soft,  entreating  eyes. 

"No,  dearest,  you  are  right.  I  will  stay 
here  tc  protect  you,  and  Spriggs  may  lead  the 
boys,"  he  answered,  throwing  an  arm  about  her. 
"  I  think  I  wounded  the  fellow,"  he  added  to  Mr. 
Mason.  "  Here,  Aunt  Chloe,  bring  the  light 
nearer." 

Yes,  there  lay  a  heavy  revolver,  and  beside  it 


174  ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

a  pool  of  blood  on  the  carpet  where  .&e  villain 
had  stood  ,  and  there  was  a  bloody  trail  all  along 
the  veranda  where  he  had  run,  and  on  the  rail- 
ing and  pillar  by  which  he  had  swung  himself  to 
the  ground  ;  indeed,  they  could  track  him  by  it 
for  some  distance  over  the  lawn,  where  the  trees 
kept  the  ground  partially  dry  ;  but  beyond  that 
the  rain  coming  down  in  sheets,  had  helped  the 
fugitive  by  washing  away  the  tell-tale  stains. 

Elsie  shuddering  and  turning  pale  and  faint 
at  the  horrible  sight,  ordered  an  immediate  and 
thorough  cleansing  of  both  carpet  and  veranda. 

"Dere's  hot  water  in  de  kitchen,"  said  Aunt 
Phillis.  "  You,  Sal  an'  Bet,  hurry  up  yah  wid 
a  big  basin  full,  an'  soap  an'  sand  an*  house- 
cloths.  Glad  'nufi  dat  massa  shot  dat  ole  debbil, 
but  Miss  Elsie's  house  not  to  be  denied  wid  his 
dirty  blood." 

"  Cold  watah  fust,  Aunt  Phillis,"  interposed 
Chloe,  "cold  watah  fust  to  take  out  blood-stain, 
den  de  hot  after  dat." 

"  Mammy  knows  ;  do  as  she  directs,"  said 
Elsie,  hastily  retreating  into  her  dressing-room. 

"  My  darling,  this  has  been  too  much  for 
you,"  her  husband  said  tenderly,  helping  her  to 
He  down  on  a  sofa. 

Chloe  came  hurrying  in  with  a  tumbler  of 
cold  water  in  one  hand,  a  bottle  of  smelling  salts 
\n  the  other,  her  dusky  face  full  of  concern. 

Mr.   Travilla    took    the  articles    from    her. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  175 

"That  is  right,  but  I  will  attend  to  your  mis- 
tress," he  said  in  a  kindly  tone  ;  "  and  do  you  go 
Bnd  prepare  a  bed  for  her  in  one  of  the  rooms  on 
the  other  side  of  the  hall." 

"  It  is  hardly  worth  while,  dear,"  said  Elsie ; 
"  I  don't  think  I  can  sleep  again  to-night." 

"  Yet  perhaps  you  may ;  it  is  only  two 
o'clock,' '  he  said,  as  the  time-piece  on  the  mantel 
struck  the  hour,  "and  at  least  you  may  rest  a 
little  better  than  you  could  here." 

"  And  perhaps  you  may  sleep.  Yes,  mam- 
my, get  the  bed  ready  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"  My  darling,  how  pale  you  are  !"  Mr.  Tra 
villa  said  with  concern,  as  he  knelt  by  her  side, 
applying  the  restoratives.  "  Do  not  be  alarmed  ; 
I  am  quite  sure  the  man's  right  arm  is  disabled, 
and  therefore  the  danger  is  past,  for  the  present 
at  least." 

She  put  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  relieved 
her  full  heart  with  a  burst  of  tears.  "  Pray, 
praise,"  she  whispered  ;  "oh,  thank  the  Lord  for 
your  narrow  escape  ;  the  ball  must  have  passed 
very  near  your  head  ;  I  heard  it  whiz  over  mine 
and  strike  the  opposite  wall," 

"Yes,  it  just  grazed  my  hair  and  carried 
away  a  lock,  I  think.  Yes,  let  ug  thank  the 
Lord."  And  he  poured  out  a  short  but  fervent 
thanksgiving,  to  every  ^  prd  of  which  her  heart 
said  "  Amen  ! " 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  lock  gone,  sure  enough,* 


176  ELSIE'S  WOMA^JSOOD. 

she  said,  stroking  his  hair  caressingly  as  lie  bent 
over  her.  "  Ah,  if  we  had  not  lingered  so  long 
here,  this  would  not  have  happened." 

"Not  here,  but  elsewher;  perLsps." 

"That  is  true,  and  no  doubt  all  has  been 
ordered  for  the  best." 

Aunt  Chloe  presently  returned,  with  the 
announcement  that  the  bed  was  ready ;  and  they 
retired  for  the  second  time,  leaving  the  house 
in  the  care  of  Uncle  Joe  and  the  women 
servants. 

It  was  some  time  before  Elsie  could  com- 
pose herself  to  sleep,  but  near  daybreak  she  fell 
into  a  deep  slumber  that  lasted  until  long  past 
the  usual  breakfast  hour.  Mr.  Travilla  slept 
late  also,  while  the  vigilant  Aunts  Chloe  and 
Phillis  and  Uncle  Joe  took  care  that  no  noise 
should  be  made,  no  intruder  allowed  access  to 
their  vicinity  to  disturb  them. 

The  first  news  that  greeted  them  on  leaving 
their  room,  was  of  the  failure  of  the  pursuit  after 
the  burglar.  He  had  managed  to  elude  the 
search,  and  to  their  chagrin  Spriggs  and  his 
party  had  been  obliged  to  return  empty-handed. 
The  servants  were  the  first  to  tell  the  tale,  then 
Spriggs  came  in  with  a  fuller  report. 

"  The  scoundrel  I "  he  growled  ;  "  how  he 
contrived  to  do  it  I  can't  tell.  If  we'd  had 
hounds,  he  couldn't.  We've  none  on  the  place, 
but  if  you  say  so,  I'll  borrow — " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  177 

u  No,  no !  Mr.  Tra  villa,  you  will  not  allow 
It  ? "  cried  Elsie,  turning  an  entreating  look 
upon  him. 

"  No,  Spriggs,  the  man  must  be  greatly 
weakened  by  the  loss  of  blood,  and,  unable  to 
defend  himself,  might  be  torn  to  pieces  by  them 
before  you  could  prevent  it." 

"Small  loss  to  the  rest  of  the  world  if  ha 
was,"  grumbled  the  overseer. 

"Yes,  but  I  wouldn't  have  him  die  such  a 
death  as  that ;  or  hurried  into  eternity  without 
a  moment  for  repentance." 

"  But  might  it  not  be  well  to  have  another 
search?"  suggested  Elsie.  "He  had  better  be 
given  up  to  justice,  even  for  his  own  good,  than 
die  in  the  woods  of  weakness  and  starvation." 

"  Hands  are  all  so  busy  with  the  sugar-cane 
just  now,  ma'am,  that  I  don't  see  how  they  could 
be  spared,"  answered  Spriggs.  "And  tell  you 
what,  ma'am " — as  if  struck  with  a  sudden 
thought — "the  rascal  must  have  a  confederate 
that's  helped  him  oif." 

"  Most  likely,'*  said  Mr.  Travilla.  "  Indeed, 
I  think  it  must  be  so.  And  you  need  give  your- 
self no  further  anxiety  about  him,  my  dear.' ' 


<%pfer  cfifittntl. 


M  Berange  at  llrat  though  sweet, 
Bitter  ere  long,  back  on  itself  recoils. ** 

— Mn/rox's  Pasidwb  Loot. 

At  tlie  instant  of  discharging  his  revolver 
Jackson  felt  a  sharp  stinging  pain  in  his  right 
arm,  and  it  dropped  useless  at  his  side.  He 
hoped  he  had  killed  both  Mr.  Trayilla  and  Elsie  ; 
but,  an  arrant  coward  and  thus  disabled,  did  not 
dare  to  remain  a  moment  to  learn  with  certainty 
the  effect  of  his  shot,  but  rushing  along  the 
veranda,  threw  himself  over  the  railing,  and 
sliding  down  a  pillar,  by  the  aid  of  the  one  hand, 
and  with  no  little  pain  and  difficulty,  made  off 
with  all  speed  across  the  lawn. 

But  he  was  bleeding  at  so  fearful  a  rate  that 
he  found  himself  compelled  to  pause  long  enough 
to  improvise  a  tourniquet  by  knotting  his  hand 
kerchief  above  the  wound,  tying  it  as  tightly  aa 
he  could  with  the  left  hand  aided  by  his  teeth. 
He  stooped  and  felt  on  the  ground  in  the  dark- 
ness and  rain,  for  a  stick,  by  means  of  which  to 
tifpiten  it  still  more  ;  for  the  bleedKg,  though 


EL&IE'S  WOMANHOOD  179 

considerably  checked,  was  by  no  means  staunched. 
But  sticks,  stones,  and  every  kind  of  litter, 
had  long  been  banished  thence ;  his  fingers 
came  in  contact  with  nothing  but  the  smooth, 
velvety  turf,  and  with  a  muttered  curse,  he  ros€ 
and  fled  again ;  for  the  flashing  of  lights,  the 
ioud  ringing  of  a  bell,  peal  after  peal,  and  sounds 
of  running  feet  and  many  voices  in  high  excited 
tones,  told  him  there  was  danger  of  a  quick  and 
hot  pursuit. 

Clearing  the  lawn,  he  presently  struck  into  a 
bridle-path  that  led  to  the  woods.  Here  he 
again  paused  to  search  for  the  much-needed 
stick,  found  one  suited  to  his  purpose,  and  by  its 
aid  succeeded  in  decreasing  still  more  the  drain 
upon  his  life  current ;  yet  could  not  stop  the  flow 
entirely. 

But  sounds  of  pursuit  began  to  be  heard  in 
the  distance,  and  he  hastened  on  again,  panting 
with  weakness,  pain,  and  affright.  Leaving  the 
path,  he  plunged  deeper  into  the  woods,  ran  for 
some  distance  along  the  edge  of  a  swamp,  and 
leaping  in  up  to  his  knees  in  mud  and  water, 
doubled  on  his  track,  then  turned  again,  and 
penetrating  farther  and  farther  into  the  depths 
of  the  morass,  finally  climbed  a  tree,  groaning 
with  the  pain  the  effort  cost  him,  and  concealed 
himself  among  the  branches. 

His  pursuers  came  up  to  the  spot  where  he 
had  made  his  plunge  into  the  water  ,  here  they 


180  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

paused,  evidently  at  fault.  He  could  hear  the 
sound  of  their  footsteps  and  voices,  and  judge  of 
their  movements  by  the  gleam  of  the  torches 
many  of  them  carried, 

Some  now  took  one  direction,  some  another, 
and  he  perceived  with  joy  that  his  stratagem 
had  been  at  least  partially  successful.  One 
party,  however,  soon  followed  him  into  the 
ewamp.  He  could  hear  Spriggs  urging  them  on 
and  anathematizing  him  as  "  a  scoundrel,  robber, 
burglar,  murderer,  who  ought  to  be  swung  up  to 
the  nearest  tree." 

Every  thicket  was  undergoing  a  thorough 
search,  heads  were  thrown  back  and  torches 
held  high  that  eager  blacks  eyes  might  scan  the 
tree-tops,  and  Jackson  began  to  grow  sick  with 
the  almost  certainty  of  being  taken,  as  several 
stout  negroes  drew  nearer  and  nearer  his  chosen 
hiding  place. 

He  uttered  a  low,  breathed  imprecation  upon 
his  useless  right  arm,  and  the  man  whose  sure 
aim  had  made  it  so.  "But  for  you,"  he  mut- 
tered, grinding  his  teeth,  "  I'd  sell  my  life  dear." 

But  the  rain,  which  had  slackened  for  a  time, 
again  poured  down  in  torrents,  the  torches  sput- 
tered and  went  out,  and  the  pursuers  turned 
back  in  haste  to  gain  the  firmer  soil,  where  less 
danger  was  to  be  apprehended  from  alligators, 
panthers,  and  poisonous  reptiles. 

The  search  was  kept  up  &r  §ome  time  longer, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  182 

with  no  light  but  an  occasional  flash  from 
the  skies  ;  but  finally  abandoned,  as  we  have 
seen. 

Jackson  passed  several  hours  most  uncomfort- 
ably and  painfully  on  his  elevated  perch,  quak* 
ing  with  fear  of  both  man  and  reptile,  not  daring 
to  come  down  or  to  sleep  in  his  precarious  posi- 
tion, or  able  to  do  so  for  the  pain  of  his  wound,  and 
growing  hour  by  hour  weaker  from  the  bleeding 
which  it  was  impossible  to  check  entirely. 

Then  his  mind  was  in  a  state  of  great  disturb- 
ance. His  wound  must  be  dressed,  and  that 
gpeedily  ;  yet  how  could  it  be  accomplished  with- 
out imperilling  life  and  liberty  ?  Perhaps  he 
had  now  two  new  murders  on  his  hands ;  he 
did  not  know,  but  he  had  at  least  attempted  to 
take  life,  and  the  story  would  fly  on  the  wings  of 
the  wind  ;  such  stories  always  did. 

He  had  been  lurking  about  the  neighborhood 
for  days,  and  had  learned  that  Dr.  Balis,  an  ex- 
cellent physician  and  surgeon,  lived  on  a  plan- 
tation, some  two  or  three  miles  eastward  from 
Viamede.  He  must  contrive  a  plausible  story, 
and  go  to  him  ;  at  break  of  day,  before  the  news 
of  the  attack  on  Yiamede  would  be  likely  to  reach 
him.  It  would  be  a  risk,  but  what  better  could  be 
done  ?  He  might  succeed  in  quieting  the  doc- 
tor's suspicions,  and  yet  make  good  his  escape 
from  the  vicinity. 

The  storm  had  spent  itself  before  the  break 


182  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

of  day,  and  descending  from  his  perch  with  the 
first  faint  rays  of  light  that  penetrated  the  gloomy 
recesses  of  the  swamp,  he  made  his  way  out  of  it, 
slowly  and  toilsomely,  with  weary,  aching  limbs, 
suffering  intensely  from  the  gnawings  of  hunger 
and  thirst,  the  pain  of  his  injury,  and  the  fear 
of  being  overtaken  by  the  avengers  of  hi3  inno- 
cent victims.  Truly,  as  the  Bible  tells  us,  "  the 
way  of  transgressors  is  hard." 

The  sun  was  more  than  an  hour  high  when 
Dr.  Balis,  ready  to  start  upon  his  morning 
round,  and  pacing  thoughtfully  to  and  fro  upon 
the  veranda  of  his  dwelling  while  waiting  for  his 
horse,  saw  a  miserable  looking  object  coming  up 
the  avenue  :  a  man  almost  covered  fiom  head  to 
foot  with  blood  and  mud  ;  a  white  handkerchief, 
also  both  bloody  and  muddy,  knotted  around  the 
right  arm,  which  hung  apparently  useless  at  his 
side.  The  man  reeled  as  he  walked,  either  from 
intoxication  or  weakness  and  fatigue. 

The  doctor  judged  the  latter,  and  called  to  a 
servant,  "  Nap,  go  and  help  that  man  into  the 
office. "  Then  hurrying  thither  himself,  got  out 
lint,  bandages,  instruments,  whatever  might  be 
needed  for  the  dressing  of  a  wound.  With  the 
assistance  of  Nap's  strong  arm,  the  man  tottered 
in,  then  sank,  half  fainting,  into  a  chair. 

"A  glass  of  wine,  Nap,  quick  !"  cried  the 
doctor,  sprinkling  some  water  m  his  patients 
face,  and  applying  ammonia  to  his  nostrils. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  183 

He  revived  sufficiently  to  swallow  with  eagef 
avidity  the  wine  Nap  held  to  his  lips. 

"Food,  for  the  love  of  God,"  he  gasped* 
"  I'm  starving  I  " 

"  Bread,  meat,  coffee,  anything  that  is  on  the 
table,  Nap,"  said  his  master  ;  "  and  don't  let  the 
grass  grow  under  your  feet." 

Then  to  the  stranger,  and  taking  gentle  hold 
of  the  wounded  limb  :  "But  yon  need  this  flow  of 
blood  stanched  more  than  anything  else.  Yon 
came  to  me  for  surgical  aid,  of  course.  Pistol- 
shot  wound,  eh  ?  and  a  bad  one  at  that." 

"Yes,  I—" 

"  Never  mind ;  I'll  hear  your  story  aftei 
your  arm's  dressed  and  you've  had  your  break- 
fast.    You  haven't  strength  for  talk  just  now." 

Dr.  Balis  had  his  own  suspicions  as  he  ripped 
up  the  coat  sleeve,  bared  the  swollen  limb,  and 
carefully  dressed  the  wound ;  but  kept  them  to 
himself.  The  stranger's  clothes,  though  much 
soiled  and  torn  in  several  places  by  contact  with 
thorns  and  briers,  were  of  good  material,  fash- 
ionable cut,  and  not  old  or  worn  ;  his  manners 
were  gentlemanly,  and  his  speech  was  that  of  an 
educated  man.  But  all  this  was  no  proof  that 
he  was  not  a  villain, 

"  Is  that  mortification  ?  "  asked  the  sufferer, 
looking  ruefully  at  the  black,  swollen  hand  and 
fore-arm,  and  wincing  under  the  doctor's  touch 
as  he  took  up  the  artery  and  tied  it, 


184  ELSIE '8  WOMANHOOD, 

"  No,  no  ;  only  the  stagnation  of  the  blood." 

"  "Will  the  limb  ever  be  good  for  anything 
again  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  neither  the  bone  nor  nerve  has 
suffered  injury ;  the  ball  has  glanced  from  the 
bone,  passed  under  the  nerve,  and  cut  the  hu- 
meral artery.  Your  tourniquet  has  saved  you 
from  bleeding  to  death.  'Tis  well  you  knew 
enough  to  apply  it.  The  flesh  is  much  torn 
where  the  ball  passed  out ;  but  that  will  heal 
in  time." 

The  doctor's  task  was  done.  Nap  had  set 
a  plate  of  food  within  reach  of  the  stranger's 
left  hand,  and  he  was  devouring  it  like  a  hun- 
gry wolf. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  good  doctor,  when  the 
meal  was  finished,  "  I  should  like  to  hear  how 
you  came  by  that  ugly  wound.  I  can't  deny 
that  things  look  suspicious.  I  know  everybody, 
high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  for  miles  in  every 
direction,  and  so  need  no  proof  that  you  do  not 
belong  to  the  neighborhood." 

' '  No ;  a  party  of  us,  from  New  Orleans  last, 
came  out  to  visit  this  beautiful  region.  We 
were  roaming  through  a  forest  yesterday,  looking 
for  game,  when  I  somehow  got  separated  from 
the  rest,  lost  my  way,  darkness  came  on,  and 
wandering  hither  and  thither  in  the  vain  effort 
to  find  my  comrades,  tumbling  over  logs  and 
fallen  trees,  scratched  and  torn  by  brambles. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  185 

siniost  eaten  up  by  mosquitoes,  I  thought  I  was 
having  a  dreadful  time  of  it.  But  worse  was  to 
eome  ;  for  I  presently  found  myself  in  a  3wamp 
up  to  my  knees  in  mud  and  water,  and  in  the 
pitchy  darkness  tumbling  oyer  another  fallen 
tree,  struck  ray  revolver,  which  I  had  foolishly 
been  carrying  in  my  coat  pocket :  it  went  off  and 
shot  me  in  the  arm,  as  you  see.  That  must  have 
been  early  in  the  night ;  and  what  with  loss  of 
blood,  pain,  fatigue,  and  long  fasting,  I  had  but 
little  strength  when  daylight  came  and  I  could 
see  to  get  out  of  swamp  and  woods,  and  come 
on  here." 

The  doctor  listened  in  silence,  his  face  telling 
nothing  of  his  thoughts. 

"  A  bad  business,"  he  said,  rising  and  begin- 
ning to  draw  on  his  gloves.  "You  are  not  fit 
to  travel,  but  are  welcome  to  stay  here  for  the 
present ;  had  better  lie  down  on  the  sofa  there 
and  take  a  nap  while  I  am  away  visiting  my 
patients.  Nap,  clean  the  mud  and  blood  from 
the  gentleman's  clothes  ;  take  his  boots  out  and 
clean  them  too  ;  and  see  that  he  doesn't  want  for 
attention  while  I  am  gone.  Good  morning,  sir  ; 
make  yourself  at  home."  And  the  doctor 
walked  out,  givuig  Nap  a  slight  sign  to  fol- 
low him. 

"Nap,"  he  said,  when  they  were  out  of  ear- 
shot of  the  stranger,  watch  that  man  and  keep 
him  here  if  possible,  till  I  come  back. 


186  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Ye6,  8ah.w 

Nap  went  back  into  the  office  while  the  doc- 
tor mounted  and  rode  away. 

"  Humph/'  he  said,  half  aloud,  as  he  cantered 
briskly  along,  "  took  me  for  a  fool,  did  he  ? 
thought  I  couldn't  tell  where  the  shot  went  in 
and  where  it  came  out,  or  where  it  would  go  in 
or  out  if  caused  in  that  way.  No,  sir,  you  never 
gave  yourself  that  wound ;  but  the  question  is 
who  did  ?  and  what  for  ?  have  you  been  house- 
breaking or  some  other  mischief  ?  "  Dr.  Balis 
was  travelling  in  the  direction  of  Viamede, 
intending  to  call  there  too,  but  having  several 
patients  to  visit  on  the  way,  did  not  arrive 
until  the  late  breakfast  of  its  master  and  mistress 
was  over. 

They  were  seated  together  on  the  veranda, 
her  hand  in  his,  the  other  arm  thrown  lightly 
about  her  waist,  talking  earnestly,  and  so  en- 
grossed with  each  other  and  the  subject  of  their 
conversation,  that  they  did  not  at  first  observe 
the  doctor's  approach. 

Uncle  Joe  was  at  work  on  the  lawn,  clearing 
away  the  leaves  and  twigs  blown  down  by  the 
storm. 

"  Mornin',  Massa  Doctah  ;  did  you  hejah  ds 
news,  sah  ? "  he  said,  pulling  ofl  his  hat  and 
making  a  profound  obeisance,  as  he  stepped 
forward  to  take  the  visitor's  horse, 

"No,  urcle,  what  is  it  P" 


EL8LS>8  WOMANHOOD.  18? 

M  Burglah,  sir,  burglah  broke  in  de  house 
las'  night,  an'  fire  he  revolvah  at  massa  an' 
Miss  Elsie.  Miss  dem,  dough,  an'  got  shot 
kisself." 

"  Possible  ! "  cried  the  doctor  in  great  excite- 
ment, springing  from  the  saddle  and  hurrying 
tip  the  steps  of  the  veranda. 

"Ah,  doctor,  good  morning.  Glad  to  see 
you,  sir/'  said  Mr.  Travilla,  rising  to  give  the 
physician  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  How  are  you  after  your 
fright  ?  Mrs.  Travilla,  you  are  looking  a  little 
pale ;  and  no  wonder.  Uncle  Joe  tells  me  you 
had  a  visit  from  a  burglar  last  night  ?  " 

"A  murderer,  sir;  one  whose  object  was  to 
take  my  husband's  life,"  Elsie  answered  with  a 
shudder,  and  in  low,  tremulous  tones,  leaning  on 
Edward's  arm  and  gazing  into  his  face  with  eyes 
swimming  with  tears  of  love  and  gratitude. 

"My  wife's  also,  I  fear,"  Mr.  Trayilla  said 
with  emotion,  fondly  stroking  her  sunny  hair. 

"  Indeed  !  why  this  is  worse  and  worse ! 
But  he  did  not  succeed  in  wounding  either  of 


you 


9" 


"  No  ;  his  ball  passed  oyer  our  heads,  grazing 
mine  so  closely  as  to  cut  off  a  lock  of  my  hair, 
But  I  wounded  him,  must  have  cut  an  artery,  I 
think,  from  the  bloody  trail  he  left  behind  him." 

"An    artery?"   cried  the  doctor,  growing 


188  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

more  and  more  excited  ;  "  where  ?  do  you  know 
where  your  hall  struck  ?  " 

"A  flash  of  lightning  showed  us  to  each 
other  and  we  fired  simultaneously,  I  aiming  for 
his  right  arm.  I  do  not  often  miss  my  aim  :  we 
heard  his  revolver  fall  to  the  floor  and  he  fled 
instantly,  leaving  it  and  a  trail  of  hlood  be- 
hind him." 

"  You  had  him  pursued  promptly,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  they  did  not  find  him.  I  expected 
to  see  them  return  with  his  corpse,  thinking  he 
must  bleed  to  death  in  a  very  short  time.  But  I 
presume  he  had  an  accomplice  who  was  able  to 
stanch  the  flow  of  blood  and  carry  him  away. " 

"No,  I  don't  think  he  had  ;  and  if  I'm  not 
greatly  mistaken  I  dressed  his  wound  in  my  office 
this  morning,  and  left  him  there  in  charge  of  my 
boy  Nap,  bidding  him  keep  the  fellow  there,  if 
possible,  till  I  came  back.  I'd  better  return  at 
once,  lest  he  should  make  his  escape.  Do  you 
know  the  man  ?  and  can  you  describe  him  ?  " 

"  I  do  ;  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Travilla.  "  But, 
my  little  wife,  how  you  are  trembling  !  Sit 
down  here,  dearest,  and  lean  on  me,"  leading  her 
fco  a  sofa.     "  And  doctor,  take  that  chair. 

"The  man's  name  is  Tom  Jackson ;  lie  is  a 
noted  gambler  and  forger,  has  been  convicted  of 
manslaughter  and  other  crimes,  sent  to  the  peni- 
tentiary and  pardoned  out     He  hates  me  because 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  18S 

I  have  exposed  his  evil  deeds,  and  prevented 
the  carrying  out  of  some  of  his  wicked  designs. 
He  has  before  this  threatened  both  our  lives. 
He  is  about  your  height  and  build,  doctor  ;  can 
assume  the  manners  and  speech  of  a  gentleman  ; 
has  dark  hair,  eyes,  and  whiskers,  regular  fea- 
tures, and  but  for  a  sinister  look  would  be  very 
handsome." 

"  It's  he  and  no  mistake  1 "  cried  Dr.  Balis, 
rising  in  haste.  "  I  must  hurry  home  and  pre- 
vent his  escape.  Why,  it's  really  dangerous 
to  have  him  at  large.  If  he  wasn't  so  disabled 
I'd  tremble  for  the  lives  of  my  wife  and 
children. 

"  He  trumped  up  a  story  to  tell  me — had  his 
revolver  in  his  coat  pocket,  get  it  off  in  tumbling 
over  a  log  in  the  dark,  and  so  shot  himself.  Of 
course  I  knew  'twas  a  lie,  because  in  that  case  the 
ball  would  have  entered  from  below,  at  the  back 
of  the  arm,  and  come  out  above,  while  the  reverse 
was  the  case." 

"But  how  could  you  tell  where  it  entered  or 
where  it  passed  out,  doctor  ?  "  inquired  Elsie. 

"  How,  Mrs.  Travilla  ?  Why,  where  it  goes  in 
it  makes  merely  a  small  hole ;  you  see  nothing 
but  a  blue  mark  ;  but  a  much  larger  opening  in 
passing  cut,  often  tearing  the  flesh  a  good  deal ; 
as  in  this  case. 

"  Ah,  either  he  was  a  fool  or  thought  I  was* 
But  good-bv.     I  shall  gallop  home  as  fast  as  pos- 


190  ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD. 

sible  and  send  back  word  whether  I  find  him 
there  or  not." 

"  Don't  take  the  trouble,  doctor,"  said  Mr. 
Trayilla ;  "  we  will  mount  and  follow  you  at 
once,  to  identify  him  if  he  is  to  be  found.  Shall 
we  not,  wife  ?  " 

"If  you  say  so,  Edward,  and  are  quite  sure 
he  cannot  harm  you  now  ?  " 

"No  danger,  Mrs.  Travilla,"  cried  the  doc- 
tor, looking  back  as  he  rode  off. 


CJapttr  J?iitenijj, 


**  Oft  those  whose  cruelty  makes  many  mourn 
Do  by  tiie  fires  which  they  first  kindle  bum." 

— Eatvl  OP  8T!BI*im 
"  A3  crimes  do  grow,  justice  should  roo»e  itself." 

— JOKtON'3  CATIUNS. 


Jacksok  thought  he  read  suspicion  in  the 
doctor's  eye  as  the  latter  left  the  office  ;  also  he 
felt  sure  the  physician  would  not  ride  far  before 
hearing  of  the  attack  on  Viamede,  and  would 
speedily  come  at  the  truth  by  putting  that  and 
that  together  ;  perhaps  return  with  a  party  of 
avengers,  and  hang  him  to  a  tree  in  the  adjacent 
forest. 

"  I  must  get  out  o'  this  before  Fm  an  hour 
older,"  said  the  scoundrel  to  himself.  "  Oh,  foi 
the  strength  I  had  yesterday  !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  lie  down,  sah,  as  Massa 
Doctah  tole  ye  ? "  asked  Nap,  returning. 
"  Massa  always  'spects  folks  to  do  prezactly  as 
he  tells  dem." 

"  Why,  Sambo,  Fm  too  dirty  to  lie  on  that 
nice  sofa,"  rephed  Jackson,  glancing  down  sX 
his  soiled  garments. 


193  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Sambo's  not  my  name,  sah,"  said  the  negro, 
drawing  himself  up  with  dignity;  "  I'se  Napo- 
ieon  Boningparty  George  Washington  Marquis 
de  Lafayette,  an'  dey  calls  me  Nap  for  short.  If 
ye'll  take  off  dat  coat,  sah,  an'  dem  boots,  I'll 
take  'em  out  to  de  kitchen  yard  an'  clean  em.' 

"  Thank  you  ;  if  you  will  I'll  give  you  a 
dollar.  And  if  you'll  brush  the  mud  from  my 
pants  first,  I'll  try  the  sofa  ;  for  I'm  nearly  dead 
for  sleep  and  rest." 

"  All  right,  sah,"  and  Nap  went  to  a  closet, 
brought  out  a  whisk,  and  using  it  vigorously 
upon  the  pantaloons,  soon  brushed  away  the 
mud,  which  the  sun  had  made  very  dry.  A  few 
blood  stains  were  left,  but  there  was  no  help  foi 
that  at  present.  The  coat  was  taken  off  with 
some  difficulty  on  account  of  the  wounded  arm, 
then  the  boots,  and  Jackson  laid  himself  down 
on  the  sofa  and  closed  his  eyes. 

Nap  threw  the  coat  over  his  arm,  and  taking 
the  boots  in  the  other  hand  went  softly  out, 
closing  the  door  behind  him.  "  Safe  'nuff  now, 
I  reckon,"  he  chuckled  to  himself ;  "  guess  he 
not  trabblo  far  widout  dese." 

He  was  hardly  gone,  however,  when  Jackson 
roused  himself  and  forced  his  weary  eyes  to 
unclose.  '  As  dangerous  as  to  go  to  sleep  when 
freezing,"  he  muttered.  He  tosc,  stepped  to 
the  closet  door,  and  opened  it. 

A  pair  of  boots  stood  on  the  floor,  a  coat 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  193 

hung  on  a  peg.  He  helped  himself  to  both,  sat 
down  and  drew  on  the  boct3,  which  were  a  little 
too  large  but  went  on  all  the  more  readily  for 
that  Now  for  the  coat.  It  was  not  new,  but 
by  no  means  shabby.  He  took  out  his  knife, 
hastily  ripped  up  the  right  sleeve  and  put  it  om 
It  fitted  even  better  than  the  boots. 

Nap  had  brought  a  bottle  of  wine  and  left  it 
on  the  office  table,  forgetting  to  carry  it  back  to 
the  dining-room.  Jackson  took  it  up,  and  placing 
it  to  his  mouth  drained  the  last  drop.  Then 
putting  on  his  hat,  he  stole  softly  from  the  house 
and  down  the  avenue. 

To  his  great  joy  a  boat  was  just  passing  in 
the  direction  to  take  him  farther  from  Yiamede. 
He  signalled  it,  and  was  taken  aboard. 

"Been  getting  Dr.  Balis  to  patch  up  a 
wound,  eh,  stranger  ? "  said  the  skipper,  glanc- 
ing at  the  disabled  arm. 

"Yes;"  and  Jackson  repeated  the  story 
already  told  to  the  surgeon. 

The  skipper  sympathized  and  advised  a  rest 
in  the  cabin. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Jackson  ;  "but  I'm  only 
going  a  few  miles,  when  I'll  reach  a  point  where, 
by  taking  to  the  woods  again,  I'll  be  likely  to 
find  my  friends ;  who  are  doubtless  anxious  to 
know  what  has  become  of  me." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  when  we  come  to  the  right 
place,  just  let  us  know  and  weTl  put  you  oft" 
0 


194  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Evidently  the  skipper  had  heard  nothing  to 
arouse  his  suspicions.  Jackson  was  landed  at 
the  spot  he  pointed  out — a  lonely  one  on  the 
ed.ge  of  a  forest,  without  question  or  demur,  an<l 
ih8  boat  went  on  its  way. 

He  watched  it  till  it  disappeared  from  view, 
then  plunging  into  the  woods,  presently  found 
a  narrow  footpath,  pursuing  which  for  an  hour 
or  so  he  came  out  into  a  small  clearing.  At  the 
farther  side,  built  just  on  the  edge  of  the  forest, 
was  a  rude  log  cabin.  A  slatternly  woman  stood 
in  the  open  doorway. 

"  So  ye  did  get  back  at  last  ?  "  she  remarked, 
as  he  drew  near.  "  I'd  most  give  ye  up.  What 
ails  your  arm  now  ?  " 

He  briefly  repeated  his  story  to  the  doctor  and 
skipper ;  then  asked  hurriedly.  "  Is  my  horse 
all  right?" 

The  woman  nodded.  "  I've  tuck  good  care 
on  her.     Now  where's  the  gold  ye  promised  me  ?  " 

"Here,"  he  said,  taking  out,  and  holding  up 
before  her  delighted  eyes,  several  shining  half- 
eagles  ;  "  have  my  horse  saddled  and  bridled  and 
brought  round  to  the  door  here  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, and  these  are  yours." 

"I'll  do  it  Bill,"  to  a  half -grown  youth 
who  sat  on  a  rude  bench  within  lazily  smoking  a 
pipe — "run  and  fetch  the  gentleman's  hoaa. 
But  what's  yer  hurry,  mister  ?  " 

"  This,"  he  answered,  pointing  to  the  disabled 


ELSIE'S  WOMAN-ROOD.  19s 

limb  ;  *'  it's  growing  worse,  and  I'm  in  haste  to 
get  home,  where  I  can  be  nursed  by  mother  and 
gisters,  before  I  quite  give  out" 

"  She's  a  awful  sperited  cratur,  and  you'IJ 
hare  a  hard  job  o'  it  to  manage  her,  with  one 
hand." 

"  I  must  try  it,  nevertheless ;  I  believe  I  can 
do  it  too  ;  for  she  knows  her  master." 

"  She'll  go  like  lightning"  said  the  boy,  as  he 
brought  the  animal  to  the  door ;  "  she's  been  so 
long  in  the  stable,  she's  as  wild  and  scary  as  a  bird," 

Jackson  threw  the  gold  into  the  woman's  lap, 
turned  about  and  taking  the  bridle  from  the  boy, 
stroked,  patted,  and  talked  soothingly  to  the 
excited  steed,  who  was  snorting  and  pawing  the 
ground  in  a  way  that  boded  danger  to  any  one 
attempting  to  mount. 

Hi3  caresses  and  kindly  tones  seemed,  how- 
ever, to  have  a  calming  effect ;  she  grew  compa- 
ratively quiet,  he  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  was 
off  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow. 

It  was  about  that  time  the  doctor  returned  to 
his  office  to  find  it  deserted,     Bap  was  summoned, 

"  What's  become  of  the  man  I  left  here  in 
your  charge,  sirrah  ?  "  asked  the  doctor  sternly. 

"  Dunno,  sah,  Massa  Boctah,"  answered  Nap^ 
glancing  in  astonishment  from  side  to  side. 
"  To't  he  heyah,  sah ;  'deed  I  did.  Took  he  coat 
an*  boots  to  clean  'em  ;  to't  he  safe  till  I  fotch 
'em  back  ;  wouldn't  go  on*  without  dem." 


198  ELSIE'S  WOMANUOOV 

The  doctor  stepped  to  the  closet.  "  Yes,  mj 
coat  and  boots  gone,  bottle  of  wine  emptied,  no  fee 
for  professional  aid — a  fine  day's  work  for  me." 

"  Massa  Doctah  !  you  don't  say  de  rascal  done 
stole  yer  coat  an'  boots  ?  Oh,  ef  I  cotch  him, 
I — "  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte  George  Washing- 
ton Marquis  de  Lafayette  looked  unutterable 
things. 

"  Better  take  care  I  don't  get  hold  of  you  !  " 
cried  the  irate  master.  "Go  and  tell  Cato  to 
saddle  and  bridle  Selim  and  bring  him  to  the 
door  as  quickly  as  possible  ;  and  do  you  find  out 
if  anybody  saw  which  way  the  rascal  went.  He 
must  be  caught,  for  he's  a  burglar  and  mur- 
derer ! " 

Nap  lifted  his  hands  and  opened  mouth  and 
eyes  wide  in  surprise  and  horror. 

"  Begone  ! "  cried  the  doctor,  stamping  his 
foot,  "  and  don't  stand  gaping  there  while  the 
scoundrel  escapes." 

Nap  shuffled  out,  leaving  his  master  pacing 
the  office  to  and  fro  with  angry,  impatient 
strides. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?  what  has  gone 
wrong  ?  "  asked  his  wife,  looking  in  upon  him* 

"  Come,  sit  down  on  the  sofa  here  and  111 
tell  you,"  he  said,  his  excited  manner  quieting 
somewhat  at  sight  of  her  pleasant  face. 

She  accepted  the  invitation,  and  seating 
himself  beside  her  he  briefly  related  all  that 


ELSIE'S  WOMAKHOOD.  19? 

he  knew  of  Jackson  and  his    attack  on  Mr. 
Tra  villa. 

He  had  hardly  finished  when  Nap  returned 
with  the  news  that  several  of  the  negro  children 
had  seen  a  man  go  down  the  avenne  and  get 
aboard  a  passing  boat. 

"Ah  ha  I "  cried  the  doctor,  jumping  up ; 
'  and  which  way  was  the  boat  going  ?  " 

"  Dat  way,  sah,"  replied  Nap,  indicating  the 
direction  by  a  flourish  of  his  right  hand. 

At  that  moment  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Traviila  rode 
up,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Balis  hastened  out  to  greet 
them. 

"  He's  gone  ;  took  the  morning  boat/'  cried 
the  doctor. 

"  Good  ! "  said  Mr.  Traviila,  "  we  have  only 
to  head  him  with  a  telegram,  and  he'll  be  arrested 
on  stepping  ashore  ;  or  on  board  the  boat." 

i '  Unless  he  should  land  in  the  next  town, 
Madison,  which  the  boat,  having  a  good  hour's 
start  of  us,  would  reach  before  the  swiftest  mes- 
senger we  could  send  ;  probably  has  already 
reached." 

"  Then  the  best  plan  will  be  for  me  to  ride  on 
to  Madison,  give  notice  to  the  authorities,  have 
it  ascertained  whether  our  man  has  landed  there, 
and  rf  not  telegraph  to  the  next  town  and  have 
them  ready  to  board  the  boat,  with  a  warrant  for 
his  arrest,  as  soon  a3  it  arrives." 

"  Yes ;  and  I'll  mount  Selim  and  go  with 


198  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

yon,"  answered  the  doctor.  "  I  probably  knovs 
the  road  better  than  you  do.  And  our  wives 
may  keep  each  other  company  till  we  return. " 

"  What  do  you  say,  Elsie?"  asked  Mr.  Travillg, 

"  That  I  will  go  or  stay  as  you  think  best." 

"  We  must  ride  very  fast ;  I  think  it  would 
fatigue  you  too  much  ;  so  advise  you  to  stay  with 
Mrs.  Balis,  and  I  will  call  for  you  on  my  return." 

"Do,  Mrs.  Tra  villa  !  I  should  be  delighted  to 
have  you,"  urged  Mrs.  Balis  ;  "and  youcantel] 
me  all  about  last  night.  What  a  trial  to  your 
nerves  !  I  don't  wonder  you  are  looking  a  little 
pale  this  morning." 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  stay,"  said  Elsie  ;  and 
instantly  her  husband,  giving  his  horse  into  Nap's 
charge  for  a  moment,  sprang  to  the  ground  and 
lifted  her  from  the  saddle.  "  Don't  be  anxious, 
little  wife,"  he  whispered,  as  the  soft  eyes  met  his 
with  a  fond  wistful  look,  "lam  not  likely  to  be 
in  danger,  and  you  know  the  sweet  words,  ( Not 
a  hair  of  your  head  shall  fall  to  the  ground 
without  your  Father.'" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  and  will  trust  you  in  His 
hands,  my  clear  husband,"  was  the  low-breathed 
response. 

Another  moment  and  the  two  gentlemen  were 
galloping  rapidly  down  the  avenue  side  by  side 
The  ladie3  stood  on  the  veranda,  watching  till 
they  were  out  of  sight,  then  went  into  the  house. 

"Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Traviila,  shall   I  jusi 


ELSIE'S  WOMJJmOOD,  192 

treat  yon  as  one  of  ourselves,  and  take  you  into 
rny  own  breezy  room  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Balis,  regard' 
ing  Elsie  with  an  affectionate,  admiring  look. 

"It  is  just  what  I  should  like,  Mrs.  Balis," 
Elsie  answered,  with  a  smile  so  sweet  that  her 
hostess  put  her  arm  about  her  and  kissed  her. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  she  said;  "you  take  my 
heart  by  storm  with  your  beauty,  grace,  and 
sweetness." 

"  Thank  you,  and  you  need  not  apologize," 
Elsie  said,  returning  the  embrace ;  "'love  is  too 
precious  a  gift  to  be  rejected." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Travilla  a  very  fortunate  man; 
and  so  does  my  husband." 

"And  am  not  I  a  fortunate  woman,  too  ?" 

"  Ah,  yes,  Mr.  Trayilla  is  most  agreeable  and 
entertaining,  handsome  too  :  and  indeed  I 
should  think  everything  one  could  wish  in  a 
husband ;  as  mine  is,"  she  added  laughingly. 
"  I  presume  neither  of  us  would  consent  to  an 
exchange  of  partners.  Are  you  fond  of  children, 
Mrs.  Travilla?" 

"Very." 

"  Shall  I  show  you  mine  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  them,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Balis  at  once  led  the  way  to  the  nursery, 
where  she  exhibited,  with  much  motherly  pride 
and  dehght,  her  three  darlings ;  the  eldest  five, 
the  second  three  years  of  age,  the  third  a  babe 
in    the    arms.     They    were  bright-eyed,  rosy- 


200  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

cheeked  children,  full  of  life  and  health  ,  but  to 
Elsie's  taste  not  half  so  sweet  and  pretty  as 
Rosebud. 

Mrs.  Balis  next  conducted  her  guest  to  her 
boudoir ;  a  servant  brought  in  refreshments, 
consisting  of  a  variety  of  fruits,  cakes,  and  con- 
fections, with  wine  sangaree  and  lemonade. 
After  partaking  of  these,  the  ladies  had  a  long 
talk  while  awaiting  the  return  of  their  husbands. 
The  gentlemen  were  gone  much,  longer  than  had 
been  anticipated,  and  I  am  not  sure  the  wives 
did  not  grow  a  little  uneasy.  At  all  events  they 
left  the  boudoir  for  the  front  veranda,  which 
gave  them  a  view  of  the  avenue  and  some  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  road  beyond  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  travellers  must  come.  And  when 
at  length  the  two  were  descried  approaching, 
in  a  more  leisurely  manner  than  they  went, 
there  was  a  simultaneous  and  relieved  exclama- 
tion, "  Oh,  there  they  are  at  last." 

The  ladies  stood  up  and  waved  their  handker- 
chiefs. There  was  no  response ;  the  gentle- 
men's faces  were  toward  each  other  and  they 
seemed  to  be  engaged  in  earnest  converse. 

"  Unsuccessful,"  said  Mrs.  Balis. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  There's  an  air  of  dejection  about  them." 

"I  don't  see  it,"  returned  Elsie,  smiling. 
"  They  seem  to  me  only  too  busy  talking  to 
notice  our  little  attention." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  201 

But  Mrs.  Balis  was  correct  in  her  conjecture. 
The  boat  had  passed  Madison  some  time  before 
the  gentlemen  arriyed  there,  had  paused  but  a 
ew  minutes  and  landed  no  such  passenger. 
Learning  this  they  then  telegraphed  the  authori- 
ties of  the  next  town ;  waited  some  hours,  and 
received  a  return  telegram  to  the  effect  that  the 
boat  had  been  boarded,  no  person  answering  the 
description  found ;  but  the  captain  gave  the 
information  that  such  a  man  had  been  taken  on 
board  at  Dr.  Balis'  plantation,  and  set  ashore  at 
the  edge  of  a  forest  half-way  between  that  place 
and  Madison. 

On  receiving  this  intelligence  Mr.  Travilla 
and  the  doctor  started  for  home,  bringing  with 
them  a  posse  of  mounted  men  headed  by  some 
of  the  police  of  Madison. 

Dr.  Balis  had  taken  with  him  to  Madison  the 
blood-stained  coat  of  Jackson.  From  this  the 
hounds  took  the  scent,  and  on  arriving  at  the 
wood  mentioned  by  the  skipper,  soon  found  the 
trail  and  set  off  in  hot  pursuit,  the  horsemen 
following  close  at  their  heels. 

Our  gentlemen  did  not  join  in  the  chase,  but 
having  seen  it  well  begun,  continued  on  their 
homeward  way. 

"And  you  did  consent  to  the  use  of 
hounds  } "  Elsie  said  inquiringly,  and  with  a 
slightly  reproachful  look  at  her  husband. 

"My  dear,"  he  answered  gently,  "having 
9* 


$0%  KLSIE'B  WOMANHOOD. 

been  put  into  the  hands  of  the  police  it  has  no^ 
become  a  commonwealth  case,  and  I  have  no 
authority  to  dictate  their  mode  of  procedure." 

"  Forgive  me,  dearest,  if  I  seemed  to  reproach 
yon,"  she  whispered,  the  sweet  eyes  seeking  hia 
with  a  loving,  repentant  look,  as  for  a  moment 
they  were  left  alone  together. 

He  drew  her  to  him  with  a  fond  caress, 
"My  darling,  I  have  nothing  to  forgive." 

In  the  cabin  at  whose  door  Jackson  had 
made  his  call  and  remounted  his  steed,  a  woman 
— the  same  with  whom  his  business  had  been 
transacted — was  stooping  over  an  open  fire,  fry- 
ing fat  pork  and  baking  hoe-cake.  Bill  sat  on 
his  bench  smoking  as  before,  while  several  tow- 
headed  children  romped  and  quarrelled,  chasing 
each  other  round  and  round  the  room  with 
shouts  of  "You  quit  that  ere  !"  "Mammy,  I 
gay,  make  her  stop." 

"  Hush ! "  cried  the  woman,  suddenly 
straightening  herself,  and  standing  in  a  listen- 
ing attitude,  as  a  deep  sound  came  to  the  ear, 
borne  on  the  evening  breeze. 

"  Hounds  !  blood-hounds  !  "  cried  Bill,  spring- 
ffig  to  his  feet  with  unwonted  energy.  "And 
they're  a  comic1  this  way ;  niaidn'  straight  for 
the  house,"  he  added,  glancing  from  the  door, 
then  shutting  it  with  a  bang.  "  They're  af tei 
that  man  ;  you  may  depend.  He's  a  'balitionist* 
or  a  horse-thief,  or  somethin'." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  203 

The  children  crouched,  silent,  pale,  and 
fcerror-su-icken,  in  a  corner,  while  outside,  the 
deep  baying  of  the  hounds  drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  mingling  with  it  came  other  soundi 
oi  horses'  hoofs  and  the  gruff  voices  of  men. 
Then  a  loud  "  Halloo  the  house  !  " 

"  What's  wanted  ? "  asked  Bill,  opening  the 
one  window  and  putting  out  his  head. 

"  The  burglar  you're  hiding  from  justice  and 
and  the  hounds  have  tracked  to  your  door.  A 
fellow  with  his  right  arm  disabled  by  a  pistol- 
shot." 

"  He  is'nt  here,  didn't  step  inside  at  all ; 
don't  ye  see  the  hounds  are  turning  away  from 
the  door  ?  But  you  kin  come  in  an'  look  for 
yourself. " 

One  of  the  men  dismounted  and  went  in. 

"  Look  round  sharp  now,"  said  the  woman 
"  I  only  wish  he  was  here  fur  ye  to  ketch  um  : 
if  I'd  know'd  he  was  a  burglar,  he  would  never 
hev  got  on!  so  easy.  He  jest  come  for  his  beast 
that  he  left  with  us  four  days  ago,  and  mounted 
there  at  the  door  and  was  on!  like  a  shot." 

"  Which  way  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

She  pointed  in  a  southerly  direction.  "  It's 
the  way  to  Texas,  aint  it  ?  an'  he's  got  four  or 
are  hours  the  start  o'  ye,  an'  on  a  swift  horse  ; 
he'll  be  over  the  border  line  afore  ye  kin  ketch 
ap  to  him." 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  indeed ;  but  justice  can  fol- 


204  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

low  liim  even  there,"  replied  the  officei,  hae 
tening  out,  already  satisfied  that  the  one  bare 
room  did  not  contain  his  quarry. 

He  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  the  whch- 
party  galloped  away  in  the  wake  of  the  dogs, 
who  had  found  the  trail  again  and  started  off  in 
full  cry. 

The  party  had  a  hard  ride  of  some  horn  s,  the 
hounds  never  faltering  or  losing  the  scent ;  but 
at  length  they  were  at  fault.  They  had  re.umed 
a  brook  and  here  the  trail  was  lo3t ;  it  was 
sought  for  on  both  sides  of  the  stream  for  a 
considerable  distance  both  up  and  down,  then 
abandoned  in  despair. 

The  wily  burglar  had  made  his  steed  vravel 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  which  was  nowhere  very 
deep,  for  several  miles  ;  then  taking  to  the  open 
country  again  and  travelling  under  cover  of  the 
darkness  of  a  cloudy  night,  at  length,  in  a  con- 
dition of  utter  exhaustion,  reached  a  place  of 
safety  among  some  of  his  confederates  ;  for  he 
had  joined  himself  to  a  gang  of  villains  who 
infested  that  part  of  the  country. 

But  "  Though  hand  join  in  hand,  the  wicked 
shall  not  be  unpunished."  Few  if  any  of  them 
TOuld  escape  a  violent  and  terrible  death  at  tht 
last ;  and — "  after  that  the  judgment " ;  from 
which  none  may  be  excused. 


•*  His  house  she  enters,  there  to  be  a  light 
BhiBing  within,  when  all  without  is  night ; 
A  guardian  angel  o'er  his  life  presiding, 
Doubling  his  pleasure,  and  his  cares  dividing." 

— Rogers'  EtniAa  Lot 

At  the  set  time  our  friends  turned  their  faces 
homeward,  leaving  their  loving  dependents  of 
Viamede  all  drowned  in  tears.  In  the  six  weeka 
of  their  stay,  "Massa"  an'  "Missus"  had  be- 
come very  dear  to  those  warm,  child-like  hearts. 

Elsie  could  not  refrain  from  letting  fall  some 
bright  sympathetic  drops,  though  the  next 
moment  her  heart  bounded  with  joy  at  the 
thought  of  home  and  father.  The  yearning  to 
hear  again  the  tones  of  his  loved  voice,  to  feel 
the  clasp  of  his  arm  and  the  touch  of  his  lip 
upon  brow  and  cheek  and  lip,  increased  with 
every  hour  of  the  rapid  journey. 

Its  last  stage  was  taken  in  the  Ion  family 
carriage,  which  was  found  waiting  for  them  at 
the  depot. 

Elsie  was  hiding  in  her  own  breast  a  longing 
desire  to  go  first  to  the  Oaks,  chiding  herself  for 


206  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

the  wish,  since  her  husband  was  doubtless  fully 
as  anxious  to  see  his  mother,  and  wondering 
why  she  had  not  thought  of  asking  for  a  gather- 
ing of  both  families  at  the  one  place  or  the 
other. 

They  had  left  the  noisy  city  far  behind,  and 
were  bowling  smoothly  along  a  very  pleasant 
part  of  the  road,  bordered  with  greensward  and 
shaded  on  either  side  by  noble  forest  trees ;  she 
with  her  mind  filled  with  these  musings,  sitting 
silent  and  pensive,  gazingly  dreamily  from  the 
window. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  encountered  a  well-known 
noble  form,  seated  on  a  beautiful,  spirited  horse, 
which  he  was  holding  in  with  a  strong  and  reso- 
lute hand. 

"  Papa  ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  joyous,  ring- 
ing cry  ;  and  instantly  he  had  dismounted,  his 
servant  taking  Seller's  bridle-reins,  the  carriage 
had  stopped,  and  springing  out  she  was  in  his 
arms. 

"My  dear  father,  I  was  so  hungry  to  see 
you,"  she  said,  almost  crying  for  joy.  "  How 
good  of  you  to  come  to  meet  us,  and  so  much 
nicer  here  than  in  the  crowded  depot." 

"Good  of  me,"  he  answered,  with  a  happy 

laugh.     "  Of  course,  as  I  was  in  no  haste  to  have 

my  darling  in  my  arms.     Ah,  Trayilla,  my  old 

Criend,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  your  pleasant  face 

"    And  he  "\ook  hands  warmly.     "  Many 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  20? 

thanks  to  you  (and  to  a  higher  power),"  ho 
added  reverently,  "  for  bringing  her  safely  back 
to  me.  She  seems  to  have  been  well  taken  cara 
of  ,*  plump  and  bright  and  rosy." 

"  I  have  been,  papa  ;  even  you  could  not  be 
more  tender  and  careful  of  me  than — my  hus- 
band is." 

Her  father  smiled  at  the  shy,  half -hesitating 
way  in  which  the  last  word  slipped  from  the  rich 
red  lips,  and  the  tender,  loving  light  in  the  soft 
eyes  as  they  met  the  fond,  admiring  gaze  of 
Travilla's. 

"  No  repentance  on  either  side  yet,  I  see," 
he  said  laughingly.  "  Travilla,  your  mother  is 
in  excellent  health  and  spirits  ;  but  impatient  to 
embrace  both  son  and  daughter,  she  bade  me 
say.  We  all  take  tea  by  invitation  at  Ion  to- 
day; that  is,  we  of  the  Oaks,  including  Aunt 
Wealthy  and  Miss  King." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  !  how  kind  ! "  cried  Elsie. 

"And  to-morrow  you  are  all  to  be  at  the 
Oaks  ! "  added  her  father.  "  Now  shall  I  ride  be- 
side your  carriage  ?  or  take  a  seat  in  it  with  you  ?  " 

"The  latter,  by  all  means,"  answered  Tra- 
villa, Elsie's  sparkling  eyes  saying  the  same,  even 
more  emphatically. 

"  Take  Selim  home,  and  iee  that  both  he 
jmd  the  family  carriage  are  at  Ion  by  nine  this 
evening,"  was  Mr.  Dinsmore's  order  to  his 
servant 


208  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

"  Ah,  papa  !  so  early  ! "  Elsie  interposed,  in 
a  tone  that  was  half  reproach,  hale  entreaty. 

"  We  must  not  keep  you  up  late  after  youi* 
journey,  my  child, "  he  answered,  following  her 
into  the  carriage,  Mr.  Travilla  stepping  in  after. 

"  The  seats  are  meant  for  three ;  let  me  sit 
between  you,  please,"  requested  Elsie. 

"But  are  you  not  afraid  of  crushing  your 
dress  ?  "  asked  her  father  jocosely,  making  room 
for  her  by  his  side. 

"  Not  I,"  she  answered  gayly,  slipping  into 
her  chosen  place  with  a  light,  joyous  laugh,  and 
giying  a  hand  to  each.  "  Now  I'm  the  happiest 
woman  in  the  world." 

"  As  you  deserve  to  be,"  whispered  her  hus- 
band, clasping  tight  the  hand  he  held. 

"  Oh,  you  flatterer  ! "  she  returned.  "  Papa, 
did  you  miss  me  ?  " 

"  Every  day,  every  hour.  Did  I  not  tell  you 
so  in  my  letters  ?  And  you  ?  did  you  think 
often  of  me  ?" 

"  Oftener  than  I  can  telL" 

"  I  have  been  wondering,"  he  said,  looking 
gravely  into  her  eyes,  "  why  you  both  so  care- 
fully avoided  the  slightest  allusion  to  that  most 
exciting  episode  of  your  stay  at  Viamede." 

Elaie  blusned.  "  We  did  not  wish  to  make 
you  uneasy,  papa." 

"  Of  course,  you  must  hare  seen  a  newspaper 
account  ?  "  observed  Mr.  Travilla. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  209 

"  Yes ;  and  now  suppose  you  let  me  hear 
your  report.  Did  the  villain's  shot  graze  Elsie'a 
forehead  and  carry  a  tress  of  her  beautiful  hair  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  it  was  only  a  lock  of  her  unworthy 
husband's  hair — a  much  slighter  loss,"  Travilla 
said,  laughing.  "  But  perhaps  the  reporter  would 
justify  his  misrepresentation  on  the  plea  that  man 
and  wife  are  one." 

"Possibly.  And  did  your  shot  shatter  the 
bone  in  the  rascal's  arm  ?  " 

"  No ;  Dr.  Balis  told  me  the  ball  glanced 
from  the  bone,  passed  under  the  nerve  and  severed 
the  humeral  artery." 

"  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  bleed  to  death." 

"Yes  ;  but  it  seems  he  had  sufficient  knowl- 
edge and  presence  of  mind  to  improvise  a  tour- 
niquet with  his  handkerchief  and  a  stick." 

"What  rooms  were  you  occupying  ? "  asked 
Mr.  Dinsmore.  "  Come,  just  tell  me  the  whole 
story  as  if  I  had  heard  nothing  of  it  before." 

Travilla  complied,  occasionally  appealing  to 
Elsie  to  assist  his  memory  ;  and  they  had  hardly 
done  with  the  subject  when  the  carriage  turned 
into  the  avenue  at  Ion. 

"  My  darling,  welcome  to  your  home,"  said 
Travilla  low  and  tenderly,  lifting  the  little  gloved 
hand  to  his  lips. 

An  involuntary  sigh  escaped  from  Mr,  Dins- 
more's  breast 

"Thank  you,  my  friend,"  Elsie  replied  to 


310  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

her  husband,  the  tone  and  the  look  saying  fai 
more  than  the  words.  Then  turning  to  her 
father.  "And  to-morrow,  papa,  you  will  wel- 
come me  to  the  other  of  my  two  dear  homes." 

"  I  hope  so,  daughter  ;  sunlight  is  not  more 
welcome  than  you  will  always  be." 

What  joyous  greetings  now  awaited  our  travel- 
lers. Elsie  had  hardly  stepped  from  the  carriage 
ere  she  found  herself  in  Mrs.  Travilla's  arms,  tho 
old  lady  rejoicing  over  her  as  the  most  precious 
treasure  Providence  could  have  sent  her. 

Then  came  Rose,  with  her  tender,  motherly 
embrace,  and  joyous  "Elsie,  dearest,  how  glad 
I  am  to  have  you  with  us  again." 

"  Oh,  but  you've  missed  us  sadly  ! "  said 
Aunt  Wealthy,  taking  her  turn  ;  "  the  house 
seemed  half  gone  at  the  Oaks.  Didn't  it, 
Horace  ?  " 

"  Yes )  the  absence  of  our  eldest  daughter 
made  a  very  wide  gap  in  the  family  circle," 
answered  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

And  "  Yes,  indeed  I "  cried  Horace  junior, 
thinking  himself  addressed.  "I  don't  believe 
I  could  have  done  without  her  at  all  if  she  hadn't 
written  me  those  nice  little  letters." 

"Don't  you  thank  me  for  bringing  her  bac& 
then,  my  little  brother  ? "  asked  Mr.  Travilla, 
holding  out  his  hand  to  the  child. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Brother  Edward.  Papa  says  I 
may  call  you  that,  as  you  asked  me  to  ;  and  Fil 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  211 

give  you  another  hug  as  I  did  that  night,  if  youTl 
let  me." 

"  That  I  will,  my  boy  ! "  And  opening  wide 
his  arms  he  took  the  lad  into  a  warm  embrace, 
which  was  returned  as  heartily  as  given. 

"  Now,  Elsie,  it's  my  turn  to  have  a  hug  and 
kiss  from  you,"  Horace  said,  as  Mr.  Travilla 
released  him  ;  "  everybody's  had  a  turn  but  me. 
Miss  King  and  Rosebud  and  all." 

Elsie  had  the  little  one  in  her  arms,  caressing 
it  fondly. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  little  brother,"  she  said,  giving 
Kosebud  to  her  mammy,  "you  shall  have  as 
hard  a  hug  as  I  can  give,  and  as  many  kisses  as 
you  want.  I  love  you  dearly,  dearly,  and  am  aa 
glad  to  see  you  as  you  could  wish  me  to  be." 

"  Are  you  much  fatigued,  Elsie  dear  ? " 
asked  Rose,  when  the  greetings  were  over,  even  to 
the  kindly  shake  of  the  hand  and  pleasant  word 
to  each  of  the  assembled  servants. 

"  Oh,  no,  mamma,  we  have  travelled  but  lit- 
tle at  night,  and  last  night  I  had  nine  hours  of 
Bound,  refreshing  sleep." 

"  That  was  right,"  her  father  said,  with  an 
approving  glance  at  Travilla. 

Mrs.  Travilla  led  the  way  to  a  suite  of  be&uti* 
ful  apartments  prepared  for  the  bride. 

Elsie's  taste  had  been  consulted  in  all  the 
refitting  and  refurnishing,  and  the  whole  effect 
w&s    charming.     This  was,   however,   bar  first 


212  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

eight  of  the  rooms  since  the  changes  had  been 
begun. 

The  communicating  doors  were  thrown  wide, 
giving  a  view  of  the  whole  suite  at  once,  from  the 
spot,  where  Elsie  stood  between  Mr.  Travilla  and 
his  mother.  She  gazed  for  a  moment,  then  turned 
to  her  husband  a  face  sparkling  with  delight. 

"  Does  it  satisfy  you,  my  little  wife  ? "  he 
asked,  in  tones  that  spoke  intense  enjoyment  of 
her  pleasure. 

"  Fully,  in  every  way ;  but  especially  as  an 
evidence  of  my  husband's  love,"  she  answered, 
suffering  him  to  throw  an  arm  about  her  and 
fold  her  to  his  heart. 

There  had  been  words  of  welcome  and  a  recog 
tion  of  the  younger  lady  as  now  mistress  of  the 
mansion,  trembling  on  the  mother's  tongue,  but 
she  now  stole  quietly  away  and  left  them  to 
each  other. 

In  half  an  hour  the  two  rejoined  their  guests, 
"  somewhat  improved  in  appearance,"  as  Mr. 
Travilla  laughingly  said  he  hoped  they  would 
be  found. 

"  You  are  indeed,"  said  Aunt  Wealthy,  "  a 
lily  or  a  rose  couldn't  look  lovelier  than  Elsie  does 
in  that  pure  white,  and  with  the  beautiful  flowers 
in  her  hair.  I  like  her  habit  of  wearing  natural 
flowers  in  her  hair." 

"  And  I,"  said  her  husband,  "  they  seem  tc 
me  to  have  been  made  for  her  adornment." 


ELSIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  213 

"  And  your  money-hoon's  over,  Elsie  ;  how 
odd  it  seems  to  think  you've  been  so  long  married. 
And  did  you  get  through  the  money-hoon  without 
a  quarrel  ?    But  of  course  you  did." 

Elsie,  who  had  for  a  moment  looked  slightly 
puzzled  by  the  new  word,  now  answered  with  a 
3mile  of  comprehension,  "  Oh,  yes,  auntie  ;  surely 
we  should  be  a  sad  couple  if  even  the  honey-moon 
were  disturbed  by  a  disagreement.  But  Edward 
and  I  never  mean  to  quarrel. " 

Mr.  Dinsmore  turned  in  his  chair,  and  gave 
his  daughter  a  glance  of  mingled  surprise  and 
disapprobation. 

"  There,  papa,  I  knew  you  would  think  me 
disrespectful,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  deep  blush  ; 
"but  he  insisted,  indeed  ordered  me,  and  you 
know  I  have  promised  to  obey." 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  assented  Mr.  Travilla, 
coloring  in  his  turn  ;  "but  I  told  her  it  was  the 
only  order  I  ever  meant  to  give  her." 

"  Better  not  make  rash  promises,"  said  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  laughing  ;  "  these  wives  are  sometimes 
inclined  to  take  advantage  of  them." 

"  Treason  I  treason  !  "  cried  Kose,  lifting 
her  haxids  ;  "  to  think  you'd  say  that  before  me ! 


**  '  Husband,  husband,  cease  your  strife 
No  longer  Idly  roye,  sir  ; 
Tho'  I  am  your  wedded  wife, 
Tot  I  am  not  your  slave,  ei&' ' 


3U  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  in  the  midst  of 
"which  the  tea-bell  rang. 

"  Come,"  said  the  elder  Mrs.  Travilla  good- 
humoredly,  "  don't  be  setting  a  bad  example  to  my 
children,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  but  lit  us  all 
adjourn  amicably  to  the  tea-room,  and  try  the 
beneficial  effect  of  meat  and  drink  upon  oui 
tempers." 

"  That's  a  very  severe  reproof,  coming  from  so 
mild  a  person  as  yourself,  Mrs.  Travilla,"  said 
Rose.  "My  dear,  give  your  arm  to  Aunt 
Wealthy,  or  our  hostess.  The  ladies  being  so 
largely  in  the  majority,  the  younger  ones  should 
be  left  to  take  care  of  themselves ;  of  course 
excepting  our  bride.  Miss  King,  will  you  take 
my  arm  ?  " 

"  Sit  here,  my  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Travilla, 
indicating  the  seat  before  the  tea-urn. 

"  Mother,  I  did  not  come  here  to  turn  you 
out  of  your  rightful  place,"  objected  Elsie, 
blushing  painfully. 

"  My  dear  child,  it  is  your  own  place ;  as 
the  wife  of  the  master  of  the  house,  you  are  its 
mistress.  And  if  you  knew  how  I  long  to  see 
you  actually  filling  that  position  ;  how  glad  I  am 
to  resign  the  reins  to  such  hands  as  yours,  you 
need  not  hesitate  or  hold  back." 

"  Yes  ;  take  it,  wife,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  in 
tender,  reassuring  tones,  as  he  led  hei  to  the 
seat  of  honor ;  "  I  know  my  mother  is  Bincer? 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  215 

(ahe  is  never  anything  else),  and  she  told  me 
long  ago,  even  before  she  knew  who  was  to  be 
her  daughter,  how  glad  she  would  be  to  resign 
the  cares  of  mistress  of  the  household."  Elsie 
yielded,  making  no  further  objection,  and  pre- 
sided with  the  same  modest  ease,  dignity,  and 
grace  with  which  she  had  filled  the  like  position 
at  Viamede.  The  experience  there  had  accus- 
tomed her  to  the  duties  of  the  place,  and  after 
the  first  moment  she  felt  quite  at  home 
in  it 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  carriage  was  announced  at 
the  early  hour  he  had  named.  The  conver- 
sation in  the  drawing-room  had  been  general  for 
a  time,  but  now  the  company  had  divided  them- 
selves into  groups  ;  the  two  older  married  ladies 
and  Aunt  Wealthy  forming  one,  Mr.  TravOla 
and  Miss  King  another,  while  Mr.  Dinsmore 
and  his  daughter  had  sought  out  the  privacy  of 
a  3ofa,  at  a  distance  from  the  others,  and  were 
in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  long,  confidential 
chats  they  always  enjoyed  so  much. 

"Ah,  papa,  don't  go  yet,"  Elsie  pleaded, 
"  we're  not  half  done  our  talk,  and  it's  early." 

"But  the  little  folks  should  have  been  in 
their  nests  long  before  this,"  he  said,  taking  cut 
his  watch. 

"  Then  send  them  and  their  mammies  home, 
and  let  the  carriage  return  for  you  and  th^ 
ladies  ;  unless  they  wish  to  go  now." 


216  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

He  looked  at  her  smilingly.  "  You  are  not 
feeling  the  need  of  rest  and  sleep  ?  " 

"  Not  at  a  J,  papa  ;  only  the  need  of  a  longei 
chat  with  you." 

"Then,  since  you  had  so  good  a  rest  last 
aight,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish." 

"Are  you  ready,  my  dear?"  asked  Rose, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"  Not  yet,  wife ;  I  shall  stay  half  an  hour 
longer,  and  if  you  ladies  like  to  do  the  same  we 
will  send  the  carriage  home  with  the  children 
and  their  mammies,  and  let  it  return  for  you." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Aunt  Wealthy  and  Miss 
Lottie  ? "  inquired  Mrs.  Dinsmore. 

"  I  prefer  to  stay  and  talk  out  my  finish  with 
Mrs.  Tra villa,"  said  Miss  Stanhope. 

"  I  cast  my  vote  on  the  same  side,"  said  Miss 
King.  "  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  don't  let 
us  keep  you." 

"  Thanks,  no  ;  but  I,  too,  prefer  another  half 
hour  in  this  pleasant  company." 

The  half  hour  flew  away  on  swift  wings,  to 
Elsie  especially. 

"  But  why  leave  u&  at  ail  to-night,  auntie 
and  Lottie  ?  "  she  asked,  as  the  ladies  began  their 
preparations  for  departure.  "  You  are  to  be  my 
guests  for  the  rest  of  the  winter  are  you  not  ? ' 
Then  turning,  with  a  quick  vivid  blush,  to 
Mrs.  Travilla,  "  Mother,  am  I  transcending  my 
right*?" 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  21? 

"  My  dearest  daughter,  no  ;  did  I  not  say 
you  were  henceforth  mistress  of  this  house  ?  " 

"Yes,  from  its  master  down  to  the  very 
horses  in  the  stable  and  dogs  in  the  kennel," 
laughed  Mr.  Travilla,  coming  softly  up  and 
stealing  an  arm  about  his  wife's  waist. 

Everybody  laughed. 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  don't  like  to  contradict  you," 
retorted  Elsie,  coloring  but  looking  lovingly  into 
the  eyes  bent  so  fondly  upon  her,  "  but  I  am — 
nothing  to  you  but  your  little  wife ; "  and  her 
voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper  with  the  last 
word. 

"Ah?  Well,  dear  child,  that's  enough  for 
me,"  he  said,  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"But,  Lottie,"  she  remarked  aloud,  "you 
are  tying  on  your  hat.     Won't  you  stay  ?  " 

"Not  to-night,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Travilla," 
answered  the  gay  girl  in  her  merry,  lively  tones. 

"  You  are  to  be  at  the  Oaks  to-morrow,  and 
perhaps  I'll — well,  we  can  settle  the  time  there." 

"  And  you,  auntie  ?  " 

"  Why,  dearie,  I  think  you'd  better  get  your 
housekeeping  a  little  used  to  your  ways  first. 
And  it's  better  for  starting  out  that  young  folks 
should  be  alone." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  had  stepped  into  the  hall  for 
his  hat,  and  while  the  other  ladies  were  making 
their  adieus  to  her    new  mother,  Elsie    stole 
softly  after  him. 
10 


218 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


"My  good-night  kiss,  papa,"  she  whispered 
putting  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  My  dear  darling  !  my  precious,  precious 
child  1  how  glad  I  am  to  be  able  to  giye  it  to 
you  once  more,  and  to  take  my  own  from  your 
own  sweet  lips,"  he  said,  clasping  her  closer. 
"  God  bless  you  and  keep  y  ou,  and  ever  cause 
his  face  to  shine  upon  you  " 


$£%n 


. 


"  O  what  pwsioni  then 
What  melting  sentiments  of  kind! j  care, 
On  the  new  parent*  telze." 

— ThOMOX'S  AaJJGDUTOS. 

11  There  is  none 
In  all  thii  cold  and  hollow  world,  no  fount 
Of  deep,  strong,  de&thlets  lore,  erre  that  within 
A  mother' t  heart !  " 

-Mas,  Hskaxi, 

Finding  it  so  evidently  the  wish  of  both  hei 
husband  and  his  mother,  Elsie  quietly  and  at 
once  assumed  the  reins  of  government. 

But  with  that  mother  to  go  to  for  advice  in 
every  doubt  and  perplexity,  and  with  a  dozen  or 
more  of  well-trained  servants  at  her  command, 
her  post,  though  no  sinecure,  did  not  burden  her 
with  its  luties  ;  she  still  could  find  time  for  tht 
cultivation  of  mind  and  heart,  for  daily  walks 
and  rides,  and  the  enjoyment  of  society  both  at 
home  and  abroad. 

Shortly  after  the  return  of  the  newly  married 
pair,  there  was  a  grand  party  given  in  their  honor 
it  E^eelands  ;  another  at  Ashlands,  one  at  Pine- 


320  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

grove,  at  the  Oaks,  and  several  other  places ;  then 
a  retnrn  was  made  by  a  brilliant  affai-  of  the  kind 
at  Ion. 

But  when  at  last  this  rather  wearying  round 
was  over,  they  settled  down  to  the  quiet  home 
life  much  more  congenial  to  both  ;  always  ready 
to  entertain  with  unbounded  hospitality,  and 
ignoring  none  of  the  legitimate  claims  of  the  out- 
side world,  they  were  yet  far  more  interested  in 
the  affairs  of  their  own  little  one,  made  up  of 
those  nearest  and  dearest. 

They  were  an  eminently  Christian  household, 
carefully  instructing  their  dependents  in  the 
things  pertaining  to  godliness,  urging  them  to 
faith  in  Jesus  evidenced  by  good  works ;  trying 
to  make  the  way  of  salvation  very  clear  to  their 
often  dull  apprehension,  and  to  recommend  it 
by  their  own  pure,  consistent  lives. 

Night  and  morning  all  were  called  together — 
family  and  house  servants — and  Mr.  Tra villa  read 
aloud  a  portion  of  Scripture,  and  led  them  in 
prayer  and  praise.  Nor  was  a  meal  ever  eaten 
without  God's  blessing  having  first  been  asked 
upon  it. 

There  was  but  one  drawback  to  Elsie's  felicity 
— that  she  no  longer  dwelt  under  the  same  roof 
with  her  father  ;  yet  that  was  not  so  great,  as  a 
day  seldom  passed  in  which  they  did  not  meet 
once  or  oftener.  It  must  be  very  urgent  busi- 
ness, or  a  severe  storm,  that  kept  him  from  riding 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  221 

or  driving  oyer  to  Ion,  unless  his  darling  first 
appeared  at  the  Oaks. 

Aunt  Wealthy  and  Lottie  came  to  Ion  within 
a.  fortnight  after  the  return  from  Yiamede  ;  and 
while  the  former  divided  the  rest  of  her  stay 
at  the  South  between  Ion  and  the  Oaks,  Lottie 
spent  nearly  the  whole  of  hers  with  Elsie. 

In  May,  Harry  Duncan  came  for  his  aunt,  and 
Miss  King  returned  with  them  to  her  paternal 
home.  Our  friends  at  Ion  and  the  Oaks  decided 
to  spend  their  summer  at  home  this  year. 

"  We  have  travelled  so  much  of  late  years," 
gaid  Kose,  "that  I  am  really  tired  of  it." 

"And  home  is  so  dear  and  sweet,"  added 
Elsie.  "I  mean  both  Ion  and  the  Oaks,  Ed- 
ward and  papa  ;  for  somehow  they  seem  to  me  to 
be  both  included  in  that  one  dear  word." 

"  That  is  right,*'  responded  her  father. 

"  Yes  ;  we  seem  to  be  all  one  family,"  said 
Mr.  Travilla,  contentedly,  fondling  Eosebud, 
whom  he  had  coaxed  to  a  seat  upon  his  knee ; 
"  and  like  a  good  spouse,  I  vote  on  the  same  side 
with  my  wife." 

"  I  too,"  said  his  mother,  looking  affection- 
ately upon  them  both.  "  I  have  no  inclination 
to  travel,  and  shall  be  much  happier  for  having 
you  all  about  me." 

The  summer  glided  rapidly  by,  and  vanished^ 
leaving  at  Ion  a  priceless  treasure. 

It    was  a  soft,    hazy,   delicious    September 

c 


B»2  ELSIE'S  WOSfANHOOD. 

morning  ;  Elsie  Bat  in  her  pretty  boudoir,  half- 
reclining  in  the  depths  of  a  large  velvet-cushioned 
easy  chair.  Her  husband  had  left  her  a  minute 
before,  and  she  was — no,  not  quite  alone,  for  her 
eyes  were  turning  with  a  sweet,  new  light  in 
them,  upon  a  beautiful  rosewood  crib  where, 
underneath  the  silken  covers  and  resting  on 
pillows  of  eider  down,  lay  a  tiny  form,  only  a 
glimpse  of  the  pink  face  and  one  wee  doubled-up 
fist  to  be  caught  through  the  lace  curtains  so 
carefully  drawn  about  the  little  sleeper. 

A  familiar  step  was  heard  in  the  outer  room. 
The  door  opened  quietly,  and  Elsie  looking  up 
cried,  "  Papa,"  in  a  delighted  yet  subdued  tone. 

"  My  darling,"  he  said,  coming  to  her  and 
taking  her  in  his  arms.  "How  nice  to  see  you 
up  again ;  but  you  must  be  careful,  very,  very 
careful,  not  to  overexert  yourself." 

"  I  am,  my  dear  father,  for  Edward  insists 
on  it,  and  watches  over  me,  and  baby  too,  as  if 
really  afraid  we  might  somehow  slip  away  from 
him." 

"He  is  quite  right.  There,  you  must  not 
stand ;  recline  in  your  chair  again,  while  I  help 
myself  to  a  seat  by  your  side.  How  are  you 
to-day?" 

"  I  think  I  never  felt  better  in  my  life,  papa  y 
30  strong  and  well  that  it  seems  absurd  to  be 
taking  such  care  of  myself." 

"  Not  at  all  i  you  must  do  it     You  seem  to 


£L8I£>J8  W0MA2TEQ0D.  323 

be  alone  with  jour  babe.     I  hope  yon  never  lift 
her  ? " 

"No,  sir,  not  yet.  That  I  shall  not  has  been 
my  husband's  second  order.  Mammy  is  within 
easy  call,  just  in  the  next  room,  and  will  come 
&e  instant  she  is  wanted." 

"Let  me  look  at  her;  unless  you  think  it 
will  disturb  her  rest." 

"  Oh,  no,  sir."  And  the  young  mother  gently 
drew  aside  the  curtain  of  the  crib. 

The  two  bent  oyer  the  sleeping  babe,  listen- 
ing to  its  gentle  breathing. 

"  Ah,  papa,  I  feel  so  rich  !  you  don't  know 
bow  I  love  her  !  "  whispered  Elsie. 

"  Don't  I,  my  daughter  ?  don't  1  know  how 
I  love  you  ?  "  And  hi3  eyes  turned  with  yearn- 
ing affection  upon  her  face,  then  back  to  that  of 
the  little  one.  "  Six  weeks  old  to-day,  and  a 
very  cherub  for  beauty.  Aunt  Chloe  tells  me 
she  is  precisely  my  daughter  oyer  again,  and  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  now  an  opportunity  to  recover 
what  I  lost  in  not  having  my  first-born  with  me 
from  her  birth.  Little  Elsie,  grandpa  feels  that 
you  are  his  ;  his  precious  treasure." 

The  young  mother's  eyes  grew  misty  with  a 
strange  mixture  of  emotion,  in  which  love  and 
joy  were  the  deepest  and  strcigest.  Her  arm 
stele  round  her  fathers  neck. 

"  Dear  papa,  how  nice  of  you  to  love  her  so 
raiy  precious  darling.     She  is  yours,  too,  almost 


2U  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

83  much  as  Edward's  and  mine.  And  I  am  sure 
if  we  should  be  taken  away  and  yon  and  she  be 
left,  you  would  be  the  same  good  father  to  her 
you  have  been  to  me." 

"Much  better,  I  hope.  My  dear  daughter, 
I  was  far  too  hard  with  you  at  times.  But  1 
know  you  have  forgiven  it  all  long  ago." 

"  Papa,  dear  papa,  please  don't  ever  again 
talk  of — of  forgiveness  from  me  ;  I  was  your 
own,  and  I  believe  you  always  did  what  you 
thought  was  for  my  good  ;  and  oh,  what  you  hare 
been,  and  are  to  me,  no  tongue  can  tell." 

"  Or  you  to  me,  my  own  beloved  child,"  he 
answered  with  emotion. 

The  babe  stirred,  and  opened  its  eyes  with  a 
little,  "Coo,  coo." 

"Let  me  take  her,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
turning  back  the  cover  and  gently  lifting  her 
from  her  cosy  nest. 

Elsie  lay  back  among  her  cushions  again, 
watching  with  delighted  eyes  as  her  father  held 
and  handled  the  wee  body  as  deftly  as  the  most 
competent  child's  nurse. 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  babe  ;  the  complexion 
soft,  smooth,  and  very  fair,  with  a  faint  pink 
tinge ;  the  little,  finely  formed  head  covered 
with  rings  of  golden  hair  that  would  some  day 
change  to  the  darker  shade  of  her  mothers, 
whose  regular  features  and  large,  soft  brown 
eyes  she  inherited  also. 


SLBIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  226 

M  Sweet  little  flower  blossomed  into  this 
world  of  sin  and  sorrow  !  Elsie,  dearest,  remem- 
ber that  she  is  not  absolutely  yours,  her  father's, 
or  mine  ;  but  only  lent  you  a  little  while  to  be 
trained  up  for  the  Lord." 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  know,"  she  answered  with 
emotion,  "and  I  gave  her  to  Him  even  before 
her  birth," 

I  hope  she  will  prove  as  like  you  in  temper 
and  disposition  as  she  bids  fair  to  be  in  looks." 

"  Papa,  I  should  like  her  to  be  much  better 
than  I  was." 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  half-incredulous 
smile.  "  That  could  hardly  be,  if  she  has  any 
human  nature  at  all." 

"  Ah,  papa,  you  forget  how  often  I  used  to 
be  naughty  and  disobedient ;  how  often  you  had 
to  punish  me  ;  particularly  in  that  first  year 
after  you  returned  from  Europe." 

A  look  of  pain  crossed  his  features.  "  Daugh- 
ter dear,  I  am  full  of  remorse  when  I  think  of 
that  time.  I  fully  deserved  the  epithet  Travilla 
once  bestowed  upon  me  in  his  righteous  indig- 
nation at  my  cruelty  to  my  gentle,  sensitive 
little  girL" 

"  What  was  that,  papa  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
look  of  wonder  and  surprise. 

"  Dinsmore,  you're  a  brute  ! " 

"  Papa,  how  could  ho  say  that ! "  and  th© 
fair  face  flushed  with    momentary   excitement 


2%6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

and  anger  toward  the  father  of  her  child, 
whom  she  so  thoroughly  respected  and  so  dearly 
loved. 

"Ah,  don't  be  angry  with  him,"  said  Mr. 
Dinsmore ;  "I  was  the  culprit.  You  cannot 
have  forgotten  your  fall  from  the  piano-stool 
which  came  so  near  making  me  childless  ?  It 
was  he  who  ran  in  first,  lifted  you,  and  laid  you 
on  the  sofa  with  the  blood  streaming  from  the 
wounded  temple  oyer  your  curls  and  your  white 
dress.  Ah,  I  can  never  forget  the  sad  sight,  or 
the  pang  that  shot  through  my  heart  with  the 
thought  that  you  were  dead.  It  v^as  as  he  laid 
you  down  that  Travilla  turned  to  me  with  those 
indignant  words,  and  I  felt  that  I  fully  deserved 
them.  And  yet  I  was  even  more  cruel  afterward, 
when  next  you  refused  to  obey  when  I  bade  you 
offend  against  your  conscience." 

"  Don't  let  us  think  or  talk  of  it  any 
more,  dear  father ;  I  love  far  better  to  dwell 
Tpon  the  long  years  that  followed,  full  of  the 
tenderest  care  and  kindness.  You  certainly 
can  find  nothing  to  blame  yourself  with  in 
them." 

"  Yes  ;  I  governed  you  too  mucn.  It  would 
probably  have  ruined  a  less  amiable  temper,  a  less 
loving  heart,  than  yours.  It  is  well  for  parents 
to  be  sometimes  a  little  blind  to  trivial  faults. 
And  1  was  so  strict,  so  stern,  so  arbitrary,  so 
severe.     My  dear,  be  more  lenient  to  your  child 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  2%7 

But  of  course  she  will  never  find  sternness  is 
either  yon  or  her  father." 

"  I  think  not,  papa  ;  nnless  she  proves  very 
headstrong  ;  but  you  surely  cannot  mean  to  advisa 
us  not  to  require  the  prompt,  cheerful,  implicit 
obedience  you  have  always  exacted  from  all  you? 
children  ?  " 

"  !Sro,  daughter  ;  though  you  might  sometimes 
excuse  or  pardon  a  little  forgetfulness  when  the 
order  has  not  been  of  vital  importance,"  he 
answered,  with  a  smile- 
There  was  a  moment's  silence  ;  then  looking 
affectionately  into  her  father's  face,  Elsie  said, 
"  I  am  so  glad,  papa,  that  we  have  had  this  talk, 
Edward  and  I  have  had  several  on  the  same  sub- 
ject (for  we  are  very,  very  anxious  to  train  ocu 
little  one  aright) ;  and  I  find  that  we  all  agree. 
But  you  must  be  tired  acting  the  part  of  nurse. 
Please  lay  her  in  my  arms." 

"I  am  not  tired,  but  I  see  you  want  her,"  he 
answered  with  a  smile,  doing  as  she  requested. 

"  Ah,  you  precious  wee  pet !  you  lovely,  lovely 
little  darling  !  "  the  young  mother  said,  clasping 
her  child  to  her  bosom,  and  softly  kissing  the 
velvet  cheek.  "  Papa,  is  she  really  beautiful  ? 
or  ia  it  only  the  mother  love  that  makes  her  go 
in  my  eyes  ?  " 

"No;  she  is  really  a  remarkably  beautiful 
babe.     Strangers  pronounce  her  so  as  well  as 


228  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

ourselves.  Do  yon  feel  quite  strong  enough  to 
hold  her  ?  " 

(( Oh,  yes,  sir ;  yes,  indeed  !  The  doctor  saya 
be  thinks  there  would  now  be  no  danger  in  my 
lifting  her,  but — "  laughingly,  and  with  a  fond 
look  up  into  her  husband's  eyes,  as  at  that  mo- 
ment he  entered  the  room,  "  that  old  tyrant  is  so 
fearful  of  an  injury  to  this  piece  of  his  personal 
property,  that  he  won't  let  me." 

"  That  old  tyrant,  eh  ?  "  he  repeated,  stooping 
to  take  a  kiss  from  the  sweet  lips,  and  to  bestow 
one  or  the  wee  face  resting  on  her  bosom. 

"Yes,  you  know  you  are,"  she  answered,  her 
eyes  contradicting  her  words  ;  "  the  idea  of  you 
forbidding  me  to  lift  my  own  baby  ! " 

"  My  baby,  my  little  friend,"  he  said  gayly. 

Elsie  laughed  a  low,  silvery,  happy  laugh, 
musical  as  a  chime  of  bells.  "  Our  baby,"  she 
corrected.     "  But  you  have  not  spoken  to  papa." 

"  Ah,  we  said  good  morning  out  in  the  ave- 
nue. Dinsmore,  since  we  are  all  three  here 
together  now,  suppose  we  get  Elsie's  decision 
m  regard  to  that  matter  we  were  consulting 
about." 

"Very  well" 

"What  matter  ?"  she  asked,  looking  a  little 
curious. 

"  A  business  affair,"  replied  her  husband, 
taking  a  seat  by  her  side. 

"I  have   a  very  good  offer  for  your  New 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  2W 

Orleans  property,  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  \ 
"shall  I  accept  it?" 

"Do  you  think  it  advisable,  papa  ?  and  yon? 
Edward  ?  I  have  great  confidence  in  yom 
judgments." 

"  We  do  ;  we  think  the  money  could  be  better 
and  more  safely  invested  in  foreign  stock  ;  but 
"fc  is  for  you  to  decide,  as  the  property  is  yours." 

"  More  safely  invested  ?  I  thought  I  had 
heard  you  both  say  real  estate  was  the  safest  of 
all  investments." 

"Usually,"  replied  her  father  "but  we  fear 
property  there  is  likely  to  depreciate  in  value." 

"  Well,  papa,  please  do  just  as  you  and  my 
husband  think  best.  You  both  know  far  more 
about  these  things  than  I  do,  and  so  I  should 
rather  trust  your  judgment  than  my  own." 

"  Then  1  shall  make  the  sale  ;  and  I  think 
the  time  will  come  when  you  will  be  very  glad 
that  I  did." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  presently  said  good-by  and 
went  away,  leaving  them  alone. 

"  Are  not  your  arms  tired,  little  wife  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Travilla. 

"  No,  dear ;  ah,  it  is  so  sweet  to  have  her 
little  head  lying  here  ;  to  feel  her  little  form,  and 
know  that  she  is  my  own,  own  precious  treasure." 

He  rose,  gently  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  put 
himself  in  the  easy  chair  and  placed  hei  on 
his  knee, 


S30  EL8IB>8  WOMANHOOD 

"Kow  I  have  you  both.  Darling,  do  yon 
know  that  I  love  you  better  to-day  than  I  eve  J 
did  before?" 

"  Ah,  but  you  have  said  that  many  times," 
she  answered,  with  an  arch,  yet  tender  smile. 

"  And  it  is  always  true.  Each  day  I  think 
my  love  as  great  as  it  can  be,  but  the  next  I  find 
it  still  greater." 

"  And  I  have  felt  angry  with  you  to-day,  for 
the  first  time  since  you  told  me  of  your  love." 
Her  tone  was  remorseful  and  pleading,  as  though 
she  would  crave  forgiveness. 

"  Angry  with  me,  my  dearest  ?  In  what  can 
I  have  offended  ?  "  he  asked,  in  sorrowful  surprise. 

"Papa  was  saying  that  he  had  sometimes 
been  too  hard  with  me,  and  had  fully  deserved 
the  epithet  you  once  bestowed  upon  him  in  your 
righteous  indignation.  It  was  when  I  fell  from 
the  piano-stool ;  do  you  remember  ?  " 

"Ah,  yes,  I  can  never  forget  it.  And  I 
called  him  a  brute.  But  you  will  forgive  what 
occurred  so  long  ago,  and  in  a  moment  of  anger 
aroused  by  my  great  love  for  you  ?  " 

"  Forgive  you,  my  husband  ?  ah,  it  is  I  who 
should  crave  forgiveness,  and  I  do,  though  it 
wag  but  a  momentary  feeling ;  and  now  I  love 
you  all  the  better  for  the  great  loving  heart  that 
prompted  the  exclamation." 

"We  will  exchange  forgiveness,"  he  wnis< 
pered,  folding  her  closer  to  his  heart. 


«*  gwe-et  is  the  image  of  the  broodiBg  dore  1 
Holy  as  hearen  a  mother's  tender  love ! 
The  lore  of  many  prayers,  and  many  tears 
Which  changes  not  with  dim,  declining  years— 
The  only  love  which,  on  this  teeming  earth, 
Asks  no  retura  for  passion's  wayward  birth." 

— Mb*.  Nobtos's  Daaus. 

u  Death  is  another  life," 

— BAUV3T. 

No  mortal  tongue  or  pen  can  describe  the 
new,  deep  fountain  of  love  the  birth  of  her  child 
had  opened  in  our  Elsie's  heart. 

Already  a  deyoted  wife  and  daughter,  she  was 
the  tenderest,  most  careful,  most  judicious  of 
mothers  ;  watching  vigilantly  oyer  the  welfare, 
physical,  moral,  and  spiritual,  of  her  precious 
charge. 

Often  she  took  it  with  her  to  her  closet,  or 
kneeling  beside  its  cradle,  sent  up  feryent  peti- 
tions to  Him  who,  while  on  earth,  said,  "  Suffer 
the  little  children,  and  forbid  them  not,  to  coma 
unto  me/'  that  He  would  receive  her  little  one, 
and  early  make  her  a  lamb  of  His  fold. 

And  eyen  before  the  child  could  comprehend, 


&S2  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

s^e  began  to  tell  it  of  that  dear  Saviour  and  Lis 
wondrous  love  ;  theii,  as  soon  as  it  could  speak, 
she  taught  it  to  lisp  a  simple  prayer  to  Him. 

little  Elsie  was  almost  the  idol  of  her  father 
and  grandparents,  who  ah  looked  upon  her  as  * 
sort  of  second  edition  of  her  mother  ;  more  and 
more  so  as  she  grew  in  size,  in  beauty,  and  intel- 
ligence. Our  Elsie  seemed  to  rind  no  cloud  in 
her  sky  during  that  first  year  of  her  mother- 
hood. "I  thought  I  was  as  perfectly  happy  as 
possible  in  this  world,  before  our  darling  came/' 
she  said  to  her  husbaud  one  day,  "  but  I  am  far 
happier  now ;  for  oh  I  such  a  well-spring  of  joy 
as  she  is  ! " 

"I  am  sure  I  can  echo  and  reecho  your 
words,"  he  answered,  folding  the  child  to  his 
heart.  "  How  rich  I  have  grown  in  the  last 
two  years  I  My  two  Elsies,  more  precious  than 
the  wealth  of  the  world  !  Sometimes  I'm  half 
afraid  I  love  you  "both  with  an  idolatrous  affec- 
tion, and  that  God  will  take  you  from  me." 
His  voice  trembled  with  the  last  words. 

"  I  have  had  that  fear  also,"  she  said,  com- 
ing to  his  side  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm  ; 
'  but,  Edward,  if  we  put  God  first,  we  cannot 
love  each  other,  nor  this  wee  precious  pet,  too 
dearly." 

"No,  you  are  right,  little  wife.  But  we 
rnnst  not  expect  to  continue  always,  or  very 
long,  so  free  from  trial ;  for  '  we  must  through 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  833 

much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.'  And  'many  are  the  afflictions  of  the 
righteous. ' " 

"  But  the  Lord  delivereth  him  out  of  them 
all,"  she  responded,  finishing  the  quotation. 

"  Yes,  dearest,  I  know  that  trials  and 
troubles  will  come,  but  not  of  themselves,  and 
what  our  Father  sends,  He  will  give  us  strength 
to  bear.  '  The  Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  shield, 
the  Lord  will  give  grace  and  glory.' " 

This  conversation  was  held  when  the  little 
girl  was  about  a  year  old. 

Early  in  the  following  winter  Elsie  said  to 
the  dear  old  Mrs.  Travilla,  "  Mother,  I'm  afraid 
you  are  not  well.  You  are  losing  flesh  and  color, 
and  do  not  seem  so  strong  as  usual.  Mamma 
remarked  it  to  me  to-day,  and  asked  what 
ailed  you." 

"I  am  doing  very  well,  dear,"  the  old  lady 
answered  with  a  placid  smile,  and  in  her  ovn 
gentle,  quiet  tones. 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  something  is  wrong  ; 
you  don't  deny  that  you  are  ill ! "  and  Elsie'a 
tone  was  full  of  alarm  and  distress,  as  she  hastily 
seated  herself  upon  an  ottoman  beside  Mr3.  Tra- 
villa's  easy  chair,  and  earnestly  scanned  the  aged 
face  3he  loved  so  well.  "  We  must  have  Dr.  Bar- 
ton here  to  see  you.     May  I  not  send  at  once  ?  " 

"~No,  dearest,  I  have  already  consulted  hiis, 
fend  he  is  doing  all  he  can  for  my  reliat" 


234  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOu. 

u  But  cannot  cure  you  ?  " 

The  answer  came  after  a  moments  pause. 

"  No,  dear ;  but  I  had  hoped  it  would  ba 
amen  longer  ere  my  cross  cast  its  shadow  over 
either  your  or  Edward's  path." 

Elsie  could  not  speak  ;  she  only  took  the  pale 
hands  in  hers,  and  pressed  them  again  and  again 
to  her  quivering  lips,  while  her  eyes  filled  to 
overflowing. 

"  Dear  daughter/'  said  the  calm,  sweet  voice, 
"  do  not  grieve  that  I  have  got  my  summons 
home  ;  for  dearly,  dearly  as  I  love  you  all,  I  am 
often  longing  to  see  the  face  of  my  Beloved  ;  of 
Him  who  hath  redeemed  me  and  washed  me 
from  my  sins  in  Hi3  own  precious  blood." 

Mr.  Traviila  from  the  next  room  had  heard 
it  all.  Hurrying  in,  he  knelt  by  her  side  and 
folded  his  arms  about  her.  "  Mother,"  he  said, 
hoarsely,  "  oh,  is  it,  can  it  be  so  ?  Are  we  to 
lose  you  ?  " 

"  No,  my  son  ;  blessed  be  God,  I  shall  not  be 
lost,  but  only  gone  before  ;  so  don't  be  troubled 
and  sorrowful  when  you  see  me  suffer  ;  remem- 
ber that  He  loves  me  far  better  than  you  can, 
and  will  never  give  me  one  unneeded  pang. 

"  Well  may  I  bear  joyfully  all  He  sends  ;  for 

our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment, 

worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 

weight  of  glory  ; '  and  He  has  said,  '  When  then 

passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  : 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  235 

snd  through  the  floods,  they  shall  not  overflow 
thee :  when  thou  walkest  through  the  fire  thou 
ghalt  not  be  burned,  neither  shall  the  flames 
kindle  upon  thee/" 

"  And  He  is  faithful  to  His  promises.  But 
we  will  not  let  you  die  yet,  my  mother,  if  any- 
thing in  the  wide  world  can  save  you.  There 
are  more  skilful  physicians  than  Dr.  Barton ; 
we  will  consult  them — " 

"  My  son,  the  disease  is  one  the  whole  profes- 
sion agree  in  pronouncing  incurable,  and  to  trayel 
would  be  torture.  No,  be  content  to  let  me  die 
at  home,  with  you  and  this  beloved  daughter  to 
smooth  my  dying  pillow,  our  wee  precious  pet  to 
wile  away  the  pain  with  her  pretty  baby  ways, 
and  my  own  pastor  to  comfort  me  with  God's 
truth  and  sweet  thoughts  of  heaven. " 

Elsie  looked  the  question  her  trembling  lips 
refused  to  utter. 

"  I  shall  not  probably  leave  you  soon,"  said 
the  old  lady.  "It  is  a  slow  thing,  the  doctor 
tslls  me,  it  will  take  some  time  to  run  its 
course." 

Elsie  could  scarce  endure  the  anguish  in  her 
husband's  face.  Silently  she  placed  herself  by 
his  side,  her  arm  about  his  neck,  and  laid  her 
cheek  to  his. 

He  drew  her  yet  closer,  the  other  aim  still 
embracing  his  mother,  "  Are  you  suffering 
much  dearest  mother  ?  n 


238  ELSIB'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Not  moie  than  He  giyetli  me  strength  to 
bear  ;  and  His  consolations  are  not  small. 

"My  dear  children,  I  have  tried  to  hide  this 
from  you  lest  it  should  mar  your  happiness.  Do 
not  let  it  do  so  ;  it  is  no  cause  of  regret  to  mo. 
£  have  lived  my  three-score  years  and  ten,  and  ii 
by  reason  of  strength  they  should  be  four-score. 
yet  would  their  strength  be  labor  and  sorrow.  I 
am  deeply  thankful  that  our  Father,  has  decreed 
to  spare  me  the  infirmities  of  extreme  old  age, 
by  calling  me  home  to  that  New  Jerusalem 
where  sin  and  sorrow,  pain  and  feebleness,  are 
unknown." 

"  But  to  see  you  suffer,  mother  ! "  groaned 
her  son. 

"  Think  on  the  dear  Hand  that  sends  the 
pain — so  infinitely  less  than  what  He  bore  for 
me  ;  that  it  is  but  for  a  moment ;  and  of  the 
weight  of  glory  it  is  to  work  for  me.  Try,  my 
dear  children,  to  be  entirely  submissive  to 
His  will." 

"We  will,  mother,"  they  answered;  "and 
to  be  cheerful  for  your  sake. " 

A  shadow  had  fallen  upon  the  brightness  oi 
the  hitherto  happy  home — a  shadow  of  a  great, 
coming  sorrow — and  the  present  grief  of  knowing 
that  the  dear  mother,  though  ever  patient,  cheer- 
ful, resigned,  was  enduring  almost  constant  and 
often  very  severe  pain. 

They  watched  over  her  with  tendereat  !ove 


ELSIE'S  WOMAJSHOOJJ,  2S? 

and  care,  doing  everything  in  their  power  to 
relieve,  strengthen,  comfort  her  ;  never  giving 
way  in  her  presence  to  the  grief  that  often  wrung 
heir  hearts. 

Dearly  as  Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie  had  loved 
each  other  before,  this  community  of  sorrow 
drew  them  still  closer  together  ;  as  did  their  love 
for,  and  joy  and  pride  in,  their  beautiful  child. 

The  consolations  of  God  were  not  small  with 
any  of  our  friends  at  Ion  and  the  Oaks  ;  yet  was 
it  a  winter  of  trial  to  all. 

For  some  weeks  after  the  above  conversation, 
Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Kose  called  every  day,  and 
showed  themselves  sincere  sympathizers ;  but 
young  Horace  and  little  Rosebud  were  taken  with 
scarlet  fever  in  its  worst  form,  and  the  parents 
being  much  with  them,  did  not  venture  to  Ion 
for  fear  of  carrying  the  infection  to  wee  Elsie. 

By  God's  blessing  upon  skilful  medical  advice 
and  attention,  and  the  best  of  nursing,  the  chil- 
dren were  brought  safely  through  the  trying 
ordeal,  the  disease  leaving  no  evil  effects,  as  it  so 
often  does.  But  scarcely  had  they  convalesced 
when  Mr.  Dinsmore  fell  ill  of  typhoid  fever, 
though  of  a  rather  mild  type. 

Then  as  he  began  to  go  about  again,  Hose 
took  to  her  bed  with  what  proved  to  be  a  far 
more  severe  and  lasting  attack  of  the  same  dis- 
ease ;  for  weeks  her  life  was  in  great  jeopardy, 
and  even  after  the  danger  was  past,  th6  improve- 


838  ELSIE  B  WOMANHOOD. 

ment  was  so  very  slow  that  her  husband  was 
£lled  with  anxiety  for  her. 

Meanwhile  the  beloved  invalid  at  Ion  was 
slowly  sinking  to  the  grave.  Nay,  rather,  as  she 
^ould  have  it,  journeying  rapidly  toward  her 
heavenly  home,  "  the  land  of  the  leal,"  the  city 
which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and 
Maker  is  God. 

She  suffered,  but  with  a  patience  that  never 
failed,  a  cheerfulness  and  joyful  looking  to  the 
end,  that  made  her  sick-room  a  sort  of  little 
heaven  below. 

Her  children  were  with  her  almost  constantly 
through  the  day  ;  but  Mr.  Travilla,  watchful  as 
ever  over  his  idolized  young  wife,  would  not 
allow  her  to  lose  a  night's  rest,  insisting  on  her 
retiring  at  the  usual  hour.  Nor  would  he  allow 
her  ever  to  assist  in  lifting  his  mother,  or  any  of 
the  heavy  nursing ;  she  might  smooth  her  pillows, 
give  her  medicines,  order  dainties  prepared  to 
tempt  the  failing  appetite,  and  oversee  the  negro 
women,  who  were  capable  nurses,  and  one  of 
whom  was  always  at  hand  night  and  day,  ready 
to  do  whatever  was  required. 

Elsie  dearly  loved  her  mother-in-law,  and  felt 
it  both  a  duty  and  delight  to  do  all  in  her  power 
for  her  comfort  and  consolation,  j  but  when  she 
heard  that  her  own  beloved  father  was  ill,  she 
could  not  stay  away  from  him,  but  made  a  daily 
?imt  to  the  Oaks  and  to  his  bedside.     She  was 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  239 

uniformly  cheerful  in  his  presence,  but  wept  in 
secret  because  she  was  denied  the  privilege  of 
nursing  him  in  his  illness. 

Then  her  sorrow  and  anxiety  for  Kose  were 
great,  and  all  the  more  because,  Mrs.  Travilla 
being  then  at  the  worst,  she  could  very  seldom 
leave  her  for  even  the  shortest  call  at  the  Oaks. 

In  the  afternoon  of  a  sweet  bright  Sabbath 
in  March,  a  little  group  gathered  in  Mrs.  Tra- 
villa's  room.  Her  pastor  was  there  :  a  man  of 
large  heart  full  of  tender  sympathy  for  the  sick, 
the  suffering,  the  bereaved,  the  poor,  the  dis- 
tressed in  mind,  body,  or  estate ;  a  man  mighty 
in  the  Scriptures  ;  with  its  warnings,  its  counsels, 
its  assurances,  its  sweet  and  precious  promises 
ever  ready  on  his  tongue  ;  one  who  by  much 
study  of  the  Bible,  accompanied  by  fervent 
prayer  for  the  wisdom  promised  to  him  that  asks 
it,  had  learned  to  wield  wisely  and  with  success 
"  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  which  is  the  word  of 
God."  Like  Noah  he  was  a  preacher  of  right- 
eousness, and  like  Paul  could  say,  "  I  ceased  not 
to  warn  every  one  night  and  day  with  tears." 

He  had  brought  with  him  one  of  his  elders, 
a  man  of  like  spirit,  gentle,  kind,  tender,  ever 
ready  to  obey  the  command  to  "weep  with 
those  that  weep  and  rejoice  with  those  that  de 
rejoice,"  a  man  silver-haired  and  growing  feeble 
with  age,  yet  so  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  so 
earnest  and  child-like  in  his  approaches  to  oui 


240  ELSIE'S   WOMANHOOD. 

"Father,  that  ho  seemed  on  the  very  verge  of 
heaven. 

"  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saith 
your  God."  Often  had  these  two  been  in  that 
sick-room,  comforting  the  aged  saint  as  she 
neared  "  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death." 

To-day  they  had  come  again  on  the  same 
Christ-like  errand,  and  for  the  last  time  ;  for 
all  could  see  that  she  stood  on  Jordan's  very 
brink,  its  cold  waters  already  creeping  up  about 
her  feet. 

Mr.  Dinsmore,  Mr.  Travilla,  and  Elsie  were 
present  ;  also,  a  little  withdrawn  from  the 
others,  Aunt  Chloe,  Uncle  Joe,  and  a  few  of 
the  old  house  servants  who  were  Christians. 
"  The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  ;  the 
Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all." 

It  was  a  sweetly  solemn  service,  refreshing  to 
the  soul  of  each  one  there  ;  most  of  all,  per- 
haps, to  that  of  her  who  would  so  soon  be  cast- 
ing her  crown  at  the  Master's  feet.  "I  am 
almost  home,"  she  said  with  brightening  coun- 
tenance, her  low,  sweet  voice  breaking  the  sol- 
emn stillness  of  the  room  ;  "  I  am  entering  the 
valley,  but  without  fear,  for  Jesus  is  with  me. 
I  hear  Him  saying  to  me,  '  Fear  not  ;  I  have 
redeemed  thee  ;  thou  art  mine.'  " 

"  He  is  all  your  hope  and  trust,  dear  friend, 
is  he  not  ?"  asked  her  pastor. 

"All,  all;  His  blood  and  righteousness  are 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  Ul 

fell  my  hope.  All  my  righteousnesses  are  as 
filthy  rags  ;  all  my  best  services  haye  need  to  be 
forgiven.  I  am  vile ;  but  His  blood  cleanseih 
from  all  sin ;  and  he  has  washed  me  in  it  and 
made  me  mete  for  the  inheritance  of  the  sainta 
in  light," 

' '  Dear  sister, "  said  the  old  elder,  taking  her 
hand  in  a  last  farewell,  "good-by  for  a  short 
season  ;  'twill  not  be  long  till  we  meet  before  the 
throne.  Do  not  fear  to  cross  the  river,  for  He 
will  be  with  yon,  and  will  not  let  yon  sink." 

"  No ;  the  everlasting  arms  are  underneath 
and  around  me,  and  He  will  never  leave  nor 
forgake." 

" '  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the 
£eath  of  his  saints/ "  said  the  pastor,  taking 
the  feeble  hand  in  his  turn.  "  Fear  not ;  you 
shall  be  more  than  conqueror  through  Him  that 
loved  us." 

"  Yes,  the  battle  is  fought,  the  victory  is  won  ; 
and  I  hear  Him  saying  to  me,  '  Come  up  hithei.' 
Oh  !  I  shall  be  there  very  soon — a  sinner  saved 
by  grace. " 

The  pastor  and  elder  withdrew,  Mr.  Travilla 
going  with  them  to  the  door.  Elsie  brought  a 
cordial  and  held  it  to  her  mother's  lips,  Mr.  Dins- 
mow  gently  raising  her  head.  "Thank  yoia 
hoth,"  she  said,  with  the  courtesy  for  which  she 
had  ever  been  distinguished.  Then,  as  Mr.  Dins- 
more  settled  her  more  comfortably  on  her  pillows, 
11 


242  ELSIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

and  Elsie  set  aside  the  empty  cup,  "  Horace,  1115 
friend,  farewell  till  we  meet  in  a  better  land. 
Elsie,  darling/ '  laying  her  pale  thin  hand  on 
the  bowed  head,  "you  have  been  a  dear,  dear 
daughter  to  me,  such  a  comfort,  such  a  blessing  ! 
May  the  Lord  reward  you." 

Elsie  had  much  ado  to  control  her  feelings. 
Her  father  passed  his  arm  about  herwaiBt  and 
made  her  rest  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Mother,  how  are  you  now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Tra- 
villa,  coming  in  and  taking  his  place  on  his  wife's 
other  side,  close  by  the  bed  of  the  dying  one. 

"All  is  peace,  peace,  the  sweetest  peace.  ) 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  die,  I  am  in  the  river 
but  the  Lord  upholdeth  me  with  his  hand,  and  I 
have  almost  reached  the  farther  shore. " 

She  then  asked  for  the  babe,  kissed  and 
blessed  it,  and  bade  her  son  good-by. 

"  Sing  to  me,  children,  the  twenty-third 
psalm." 

Controlling  their  emotion  by  a  strong  effort, 
that  they  might  minister  to  her  comfort,  they 
sang ;  the  three  voices  blending  in  sweet 
harmony. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  again,  as  the  last 
strain  died  away.  "  Hark !  I  hear  sweeter, 
richer  melody,  the  angels  have  come  for  me, 
Jesus  is  here.     Lord  Jesus  receive  my  spirit." 

There  was  an  enraptured  upward  glance,  an 
ecstatic  smile,  then  the  eyes  closed  and  all  was 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  243 

still ;  without  a  struggle  or  a  groan  the  spirit  had 
dropped  its  tenement  of  clay  and  sped  away  on 
its  upward  flight 

It  was  like  a  translation  ;  a  deep  hush  filled 
the  room,  while  for  a  moment  they  seemed 
almost  to  see  the  "  glory  that  dwelleth  in  Imman- 
uel's  land."  They  scarcely  wept,  their  joy  for 
her,  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord,  almost  swallowing 
up  their  grief  for  themselves. 

But  soon  Elsie  began  to  tremble  violently, 
shudder  after  shudder  shaking  her  whole  frame, 
and  in  sudden  alarm  her  husband  and  father  led 
her  from  the  room. 

"Oh,  Elsie,  my  darling,  my  precious  wife  ! w 
cried  Travilla,  in  a  tone  of  agony,  as  they  laid 
her  upon  a  sofa  in  her  boudoir,  "  are  you  ill  ?  are 
you  in  pain  ?" 

"  Give  way,  daughter,  and  let  the  tears  come," 
said  Mr.  Dinsmoie,  tenderly  bending  oyer  he? 
and  gently  smoothing  her  hair  ;  "it  will  do  you 
good,  bring  relief  to  the  overstrained  nerves  and 
full  heart." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  barriers  which  for  so 
many  hours  had  been  steadily,  firmly  resisting 
the  grief  and  anguish  swelling  in  her  breast, 
suddenly  gave  way,  and  tears  poured  out  like 
a  flood. 

Her  husband  knelt  by  her  side  and  drew  he? 
head  to  a  resting-place  on  his  breast,  while  hex 
father,  with  one  of  her  hands  in  his,  softly  re- 


244  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

peated  text  after  text  speaking  of  the  bliss  of  the 
bles«ed  dead. 

She  grew  calmer.  "  Don't  be  alarmed  about 
me,  dear  Edward,  dear  papa,"  she  said  in  her  low 
arweet  tones.  "  I  don't  think  I  am  ill ;  and  heavy 
as  onr  loss  is,  dearest  husband,  how  we  must 
rejoice  for  her.  Let  me  go  and  perform  the  last 
office  of  loye  for  her — our  precious  mother ;  I 
am  better  ;  I  am  able." 

"  No,  no,  you  are  not ;  you  must  not,"  both 
answered  in  a  breath.  "  Aunt  Dinah  and  Aunt 
Ghloe  will  do  it  all  tenderly  and  lovingly  as  ii 
she  had  been  of  their  own  flesh  and  blood,9* 
@dded  Mr.  Travilla,  in  trembling  tones. 


<%pttr  tatfiefj}. 

There  are  smiles  end  tears  in  the  mother's  eye* 
)?or  her  aew-born  babe  beside  her  lies  ; 
Oh,  heaven  of  bliss  !  Trhen  the  heart  o'ernowa 
With  the  capture  a  mother  only  knows  !  M 

— Hbnbt  WASH,  J». 

"feL^s.  Tea  villa  was  laid  to  rest  in  their  owe 
family  burial  ground,  her  dust  sleeping  beside 
that  of  her  husband,  and  children  who  had  died 
in  infancy  ;  and  daily  her  surviving  son  carried 
hia  little  daughter  thither  to  scatter  fiowers  upon 
"dear  grandma's  grave. " 

It  was  not  easy  to  learn  to  live  without  the 
dear  mother  ;  they  missed  her  constantly.  Yet 
was  their  sorrow  nearly  swallowed  up  in  joy  for 
her — the  blessed  dead  who  had  departed  to  be 
with  Christ  in  glory  and  to  go  no  more  out  for- 
ever from  that  blissful  presence. 

Their  house  was  not  made  dark  and  gloomy, 
the  sunlight  and  sweet  spring  air  entered  freely 
as  of  yore.  Nor  did  they  suffer  gloom  to  gather 
in  their  hearts  or  cloud  their  faces.  Each  was 
filled  with  thankfulness  for  the  spared  life  at  tfie 
other,  and  of  their  darling  little  daughter.. 


246  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

And  scarce  a  week  had  passed  away  since 
heaven's  portals  opened  wide  to  the  ransomed 
soul,  when  a  new  voice — that  of  a  son  and  heir — 
was  heard  in  the  old  home,  and  many  hearts 
rejoiced  in  the  birth  of  the  beautiful  boy. 

"  God,  has  sent  him  to  comfort  you  in  your 
sorrow,  dearest,"  Elsie  whispered,  as  her  hus- 
band brought  the  babe — fresh  from  its  first 
robing  by  Aunt  Chloe's  careful  hands — and  with 
a  very  proud  and  happy  face  laid  it  in  her  arms, 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  in  moved  tones.  "  Oh,  that 
men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness,  and 
for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men  ! " 

"  If  mother  could  only  have  seen  him  ! " 
And  tears  gathered  in  the  soft,  sweet  eyes  of  the 
young  mother  gazing  so  tenderly  upon  the  tiny 
face  on  her  arm. 

"  She  will,  one  day,  I  trust ;  I  have  been 
asking  for  this  new  darling  that  he  may  be  an 
heir  of  glory :  that  he  may  early  be  gathered 
into  the  fold  of  the  good  Shepherd. " 

"  And  I,  too,"  she  said,  "  have  besought  my 
precious  Saviour  to  be  the  God  of  my  children 
also  from  their  birth." 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  call  your  son  P  " 

"  What  do  you  ?  "  she  asked,  smiling  up  at 
him. 

"  Horace,  for  your  father,  if  you  like." 

"  And  I  had  thought  of  Edward,  for  his  father 
and  youra.     Horace  Edward.     Will  that  do  ?  n 


ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD,  S47 

"I  am  satisfied,  if  yon  are.  Bnt  Edward 
wonld  do  for  the  next." 

"Bnt  he  may  never  come  to  claim  it,"  she 
said,  langhing.     "  Is  papa  in  the  honse  ?" 

"Yes,  and  delighted  to  learn  that  he  has  a 
grandson." 

"  Oh,  bring  him  here  and  let  me  see  the  fiist 
meeting  between  them." 

"  Can  yon  bear  the  excitement  ?  " 

"  I  promise  not  to  be  excited  ;  and  it  always 
does  me  good  to  see  my  dear  father." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  came  softly  in,  kissed  very 
tenderly  the  pale  face  on  the  pillow,  then  took 
a  long  look  at  the  tiny  pink  one  nestling  to 
her  side. 

"Ah,  isn't  he  a  beauty  ?  I  have  made  yon 
two  grandfathers  now,  yon  dear  papa ! "  she 
said,  indulging  in  a  little  jest  to  keep  down  the 
emotions  tugging  at  her  heart-strings.  "  Do  yon 
begin  to  feel  old  and  decrepit,  mm  pere  ?  " 

"Not  very,"  he  said  smiling,  and  softly 
smoothing  her  hair  ;  "  not  more  so  to-day  than 
I  did  yesterday.  But  now  I  must  leave  yon  to 
rest  and  sleep.  Try,  my  darling,  for  all  our 
sakes,  to  be  very  prudent,  very  calm  and  quiet" 

"I  will,  papa;  and  don't  trouble  about  me. 
Yon  know  I  am  in  good  hands.  Ah,  stay  a 
moment !  here  is  Edward  bringing  wee  bit  Elsie 
to  take  her  first  peep  at  her  little  brother." 

"Mamma,"  cried  the  child,  stretching  out 


248  KLSIE'8  WOMANHOOD, 

her  little  arms  toward  the  bed,  ' '  mamma,  take 
Elsie." 

"  Mamma  can't,  darling  ;  poor  mamma  is  so 
sick/'  said  Mr.  Travilla  ;  "  stay  with  papa." 

"  But  she  shall  kiss  her  mamma,  dear,  pre- 
cious little  pet,"  Elsie  said.  "  Please  hold  her 
close  for  a  minute,  papa,  and  let  her  kiss  her 
mother." 

He  complied  under  protest,  in  which  Sir. 
Dinsmore  joined,  that  he  feared  it  would  be  too 
much  for  her ;  and  the  soft  baby  hands  patted 
the  wan  cheeks,  the  tiny  rosebud  mouth  was 
pressed  again  and  again  to  the  pale  lips,  with 
rapturous  cooings,  "  Mamma,  mamma  ! " 

"  There,  pet,  that  will  do,"  said  her  father. 
"  Now,  see  what  mamma  has  for  you." 

"  Look,  mother's  darling,"  Elsie  said  with  a 
glad  smile,  exposing  to  view  the  tiny  face  by 
her  side. 

"  Baby  !  "  cried  the  little  girl,  with  a  joyous 
shout,  clapping  her  chubby  hands,  "pretty  baby 
Elsie  take  ' ;  and  the  email  arms  were  held  out 
entreatingly. 

"  No,  Elsie  is  too  little  to  hold  it,"  said  her 
papa  ;  "  but  she  may  kiss  it  very  softly." 

The  child  availed  herself  of  the  permission, 
then  gently  patting  the  new  comer,  repeated  her 
glad  cry,  "Baby,  pretty  baby." 

"Elsie's  little  brother,"  said  her  mamma, 
tenderly.     "  Now,  dearest,  let  mammy  take  her 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  243 

a?? ay."  she  added,  sinking  back  on  her  pillows 
with  a  weary  sigh. 

He  complied,  then  bent  oyer  her  with  a  look 
of  concern.  "I  should  not  have  brought  he? 
in,"  he  said  anxiously  ;  "it  hag  been  too  much 
for  you," 

"  But  I  wanted  so  to  see  her  delight  One 
more  kiss,  papa,  before  you  go,  and  then  111 
try  to  sleep." 

Elsie  did  not  recover  so  speedily  and  entirely 
as  before,  after  the  birth  of  her  first  babe  ;  and 
those  to  whom  she  was  so  dear  grew  anxious  and 
troubled  about  her, 

"  You  want  change,  daughter,"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
said,  coming  in  one  morning  and  finding  her  lying 
pale  and  languid  on  a  sofa ;  "  and  we  are  all 
longing  to  haye  you  at  home.  Do  you  feel  equal 
to  a  driye  oyer  to  the  Oaks  ?  " 

"I  think  I  do,  papa,"  she  answered,  brighten- 
ing. "  Edward  took  me  for  a  short  driye  yester- 
day, and  I  felt  better  for  it. " 

"  Then,  dearest,  come  home  to  your  father's 
house  and  stay  there  as  long  as  you  can  ;  bring 
babife  and  nurses  and  come.  Your  own  suite  of 
rooms  is  quite  ready  for  you,"  he  said,  caressing 
her  tenderly. 

"  Ah,  papa,  how  nice  to  go  back  and  feel  at 

home  in  my  own  father's  house  again,"  3he  said, 

softly  stroking  his  head  with  her  thin  white  hand 

as  he  bent  oyer  her,  the  sweet  soft  eyes,  gazing 

11* 


260  ELSIE- 8  WOMANHOOD. 

full  into  his,  brimming  over  with  love  and  joy. 
"  I  shall  go,  if  Edward  doesn't  object.  Fd  like  to 
start  this  minute.  But  you  haven't  told  me 
how  poor  mamma  is  to-day  ?  " 

"  Not  well,  not  very  much  stronger  than  you 
are,  I  fear,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  sigh. 
"  But  your  coming  will  do  her  a  world  of  good. 
Where  is  Travilla  ?  " 

"Here,  and  quite  at  your  service,"  replied 
Mr.  Travilla'e  cheery  voice,  as  he  came  in  from 
the  garden  with  his  little  daughter  in  his  arms. 

He  set  her  down,  and  while  he  exchanged 
greetings  with  Mr.  Dinsmore,  she  ran  to  her 
mother  with  a  bouquet  of  lovely  3weet-scented 
spring  blossoms  they  had  been  gathering  "  for 
mamma. " 

"  Thank  you,  mother's  darling,"  Elsie  said, 
accepting  the  gift  and  tenderly  caressing  the 
giver ;  "  you  and  papa,  too.  But  see  who  is 
here?" 

The  child  turned  to  look,  and  with  a  joyous 
cry  "  G-'anpa  ! "  ran  into  his  outstretched  arms. 

"  Grandpa's  own  wee  pet,"  he  said,  hugging 
the  little  form  close  and  covering  the  baby  face 
with  kisses.  "Will  you  come  and  live  with 
grandpa  in  his  home  for  awhile  ?  " 

"Mamma  ?  papa  too  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  a 
wistful  look  on  them. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  yes  indeed,  mamma  and  papa  too," 

"Baby?" 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  251 

"  Yes,  baby  and  mammies  and  alL  Will 
yon  come  ?  " 

"  May  Elsie,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  pet ;  we  will  all  go,  if  your  papa  if 
willing. "  And  her  soft  eyes  sought  her  hus- 
band's face  with  a  look  of  love  and  confidence 
that  said  she  well  knew  he  would  never  deny  her 
any  good  in  his  power  to  bestow. 

"  I  have  been  proposing  to  my  daughter  to 
take  possession  again,  for  as  long  a  time  as  she 
finds  it  convenient  and  agreeable,  of  her  old  suite 
of  rooms  at  the  Oaks.  I  think  the  change  would 
do  her  good,  and  perhaps  you  and  the  little  ones 
also,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  explained. 

"Thank  you  ;  I  think  it  would.  When  will 
you  go,  little  wife  ?  " 

"  Papa  proposes  taking  me  at  once," 

"  My  carriage  is  at  the  door,  and  this  is  th@ 
pleasantest  part  of  the  day,"  remarked  Mr. 
Dinsmore. 

"Ah,  yes  ;  then  take  Elsie  with  you,  and  I 
will  follow  shortly  with  children  and  servants. 
There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  she  should 
rxot  go,  if  she  wishes,  and  stay  as  long  as  she 
likes," 

The  change  proved  beneficial  to  Elsie  ;  it  was 
so  pleasant  to  find  herself  again  a  member  of  her 
fathers  family;  and  that  even  without  a  short 
separation  from  her  husband  and  little  ones. 

Here.,  too,  absent  from  the  scenes  so  closely 


252  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

associated  with  the  memory  of  her  beloved  moth- 
er-in-law, she  dwelt  less  upon  her  loss,  while  at 
the  same  time  she  was  entertained  and  cheered 
by  constant  interconrse  with  father,  Rose,  an-I 
young  brother  and  sister.  It  was  indeed  a  cheer- 
ing thing  to  all  parties  to  be  thns  brought 
together  for  a  time  as  one  family  in  delightful 
social  intercourse. 

Yet,  though  the  invalids  improved  in  spirits, 
and  to  some  extent  in  other  respects,  they  did 
not  regain  their  usual  strength,  and  the  physi- 
cians recommending  travel,  particularly  a  sea 
voyage,  it  was  fiually  decided  to  again  visit 
Europe  for  an  indefinite  period,  the  length  of 
their  stay  to  depend  upon  circumstances. 

It  was  in  June,  1860,  they  left  their  homes  ; 
and  travelling  northward,  paid  a  short  visit  to 
relatives  and  friends  in.  Philadelphia  ;  then  took 
the  steamer  for  Europe. 

A  few  weeks  later  found  them  cosily  estab- 
lished in  a  handsome  villa  overlooking  the  beau- 
tiful bay  of  Naples. 

They  formed  but  one  family  here  as  at  ths 
Oaks  ;  each  couple  having  their  own  private 
suite  of  apartments,  while  all  other  rooms  were 
used  in  common  and  their  meals  taken  together  ; 
an  arrangement  preferred  by  all  ;  Mr.  Dinsmoie 
and  his  daughter  especially  rejoicing  in  it,  as 
giving  them  almost  as  much  of  each  other's  so- 
ciety as  before  her  marriage. 


FLtiIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  253 

In  this  lovely  spot  they  planned  to  remain 
for  some  months,  perchance  a  year;  little 
dreaming  that  five  years  would  roll  their  weary 
round  ere  they  should  Bee  home  and  dear  native 
!sa&  again. 


djapte  % fonrtg-first 

*  Ho  who  lores  not  his  country  can  love  nothing.** 

— Byron. 

**  There  were  sad  hearts  In  a  darken'd  home, 
When  the  brave  had  left  their  bower  ; 
But  the  strength  of  prayer  and  sacrifice 
Was  with  them  in  that  hour." 

— Kbs.  Huubs. 

The  sea  voyage  had  done  much  for  the 
health  of  both  ladies,  and  the  soft  Italian  air 
carried  on  the  cure.  Mr.  Dinsmore,  too,  had 
recovered  his  umal  strength,  for  the  first  time 
since  his  attack  of  fever. 

There  was  no  lack  of  good  society  at  their 
command  ;  good  both  socially  and  intellectually. 
American,  English,  Italian,  French,  etc.  ;  many 
former  friends  and  acquaintances  and  others 
desiring  to  be  introduced  by  these  ;  but  none  of 
our  party  felt  disposed  at  that  time  to  mix  much 
with  the  outside  world. 

Elsie's  deep  mourning  was  for  her  sufficient 
excuse  for  declining  all  invitations ;  while  Rose 
oould  plead  her  still  precarious  state  of  health. 

She  wore  no  outward  badge  of  mourning  for 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  255 

Mrs.  Travilla,  but  felt  deep  and  sincere  gr^ef  at 
her  loss  ;  for  the  two  had  been  intimate  and  dear 
friends  for  many  years,  the  wide  disparity  in 
age  making  their  intercourse  and  affection  much 
Like  that  of  mother  and  daughter. 

The  condition  of  political  affairs  in  their  own 
country  was  another  thing  that  caused  our  friends 
to  feel  more  exclusiye  and  somewhat  reluctant  to 
mingle  with  those  of  other  nationalities.  Every 
mail  brought  them  letters  and  papers  from  both 
North  and  South,  and  from  their  distant  stand- 
point they  watched  with  deep  interest  and  anx- 
iety the  course  of  events  fraught  with  such  mo- 
mentous consequences  to  their  native  land. 

Neither  Mr.  Dinsmore  nor  Mr.  Travilla  had 
ever  been  a  politician  ;  but  both  they  and  their 
wives  were  dear  lovers  of  their  country,  by  which 
they  meant  the  whole  Union.  The  three  who 
were  natives  of  the  South  acknowledged  that 
that  section  was  dearer  to  them  than  any  other, 
but  that  the  whole  was  nearer  and  dearer  than 
any  part ;  while  Eose  said  "  she  knew  no  differ- 
ence ;  it  was  all  her  own  beloved  native  land,  to 
her  mind  one  and  indivisible." 

They  led  a  cheerful,  quiet  life  in  their  Italian 
home,  devoting  themselves  to  each  other  and 
their  children  ;  Mr.  I  >insmore  acting  the  part  of 
Sutor  to  young  Horace,  as  he  had  done  to  Elsie. 

Her  little  ones  were  the  pets  and  playthinga 
of  the  entire  household,  while  she  and  their 


5&fc  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

father  found  the  sweetest  joy  in  caring  for  them 
and  watching  over  and  assisting  the  develop- 
ment  of  their  naturel,  mental,  moral,  and  phys- 
ical. Their  children  would  never  be  left  to  the 
care  and  training  of  servants,  however  faithful 
and  devoted. 

Kor  would  those  of  Mr.  Dinsniore  and  Rose. 
In  the  esteem  of  these  wise,  Christian  parents 
the  God-given  charge  of  their  own  offspring  took 
undoubted  precedence  of  the  claims  of  society. 

Thus  placidly  passed  the  summer  and  autumn, 
the  monotony  of  their  Becluded  life  relieved  by 
the  enjoyment  of  literary  pursuits,  and  varied 
by  walks,  rides,  drives,  and  an  occasional  sail,  in 
bright,  still  weather,  over  the  waters  of  the 
lovely  bay. 

Elsie  entered  the  drawing-room  one  morning, 
with  the  little  daughter  in  her  arms.  The  child 
was  beautiful  as  a  cherub,  the  mother  sweet  and 
fair  as  ever,  nor  a  day  older  in  appearance  than 
while  yet  a  girl  in  her  father's  house. 

She  found  him  sole  occupant  of  the  room, 
pacing  to  and  fro  with  downcast  eyes  and  troubled 
countenance.  But  looking  up  quickly  at  the 
sound  of  her  footsteps  he  came  hastily  toward  her. 

"  Come  to  grandpa,"  he  said,  holding  out  hia 
hands  to  the  little  one  ;  then  as  he  took  her  in 
his  arms,  "My  dear  daughter,  if  I  had  any 
authority  over  you  now — " 

"Papa,"  sfe©  interrupted,   blushing  deeply, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  257 

while  the  quick  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  "  you 
aurt  me  !  Please  don't  speak  so,  I  am  as  ready 
now  as  ever  to  obey  your  slightest  behest," 

'-Then,  my  darling,  don't  carry  this  child 
T on  are  not  strong,  and  I  fear  will  do  your- 
self an  injury.  She  can  walk  very  well  now,  and 
if  necessary  to  have  her  carried,  call  upon  m.% 
her  father,  or  one  of  the  servants  ;  Aunt  Chloe, 
Uncle  Joe,  Dinah,  one  or  another  is  almost  sure 
bo  be  at  hand." 

"I  will  try  to  follow  out  your  wishes,  papa. 
Edward  has  said  the  same  thing  to  me,  and  no 
doubt  you  are  right ;  but  it  is  so  sweet  to  have 
her  in  my  arms,  and  so  hard  to  refuse  when  she 
asks  to  be  taken  up." 

"You  musn't  ask  mamma  to  carry  you,"  Mr. 
Dinsmore  said  to  the  child,  caressing  her  ten- 
derly as  he  spoke  ;  "  poor  mamma  is  not  strong, 
and  you  will  make  her  sick." 

They  had  seated  themselves  side  by  side  upon 
a  sofa.  The  little  one  turned  a  piteous  look 
upon  her  mother,  and  with  a  quivering  lip  and 
fast-filling  eyes,  said,  "  Mamma  sick  ?  Elsie  tisa 
hex,  make  her  well  ?  " 

"  No,  my  precious  pet,  mother  isn't  sick ;  so 
don't  cry,"  Elsie  answered,  receiving  the  offered 
kiss,  as  the  babe  left  her  grandfather's  knee  and 
crept  to  her ;  then  the  soft  little  hands  patted 
her  on  the  cheeks  and  the  chubby  arms  clung 
about  her  neck. 


358  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

But  catching  sight,  through  the  open  win 
dow,  of  her  father  coming  up  the  garden  walk, 
wee  Elsie  hastily  let  go  her  hold,  slid  to  the  floor 
and  ran  to  meet  him. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  seemed  again  lost  in  gloomy 
thought. 

"  Papa,  dear,  what  is  it  ?  What  troubles  you 
^o  ? "  asked  Elsie,  moying  closer  to  him,  and 
leaning  affectionately  on  his  shoulder,  while  the 
soft  eyes  sought  his  with  a  wistful,  anxious 
expression. 

He  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  just  touching 
her  cheek  with  his  lips,  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 
"The  papers  bring  us  bad  ne"ws.  Lincoln  is 
elected. " 

"  Ah  well,  let  us  not  borrow  trouble,  papa  ; 
perhaps  he  may  prove  a  pretty  good  president 
after  all." 

"Just  what  I  think/'  remarked  Mr.  Travilla, 
who  had  come  in  with  his  little  girl  in  his  arms 
at  the  moment  of  Mr.  Dinsmore's  announce- 
ment, and  seated  himself  on  his  wife's  other 
side  ;  "let  us  wait  and  see.  All  may  go  right 
with  our  country  yet." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head  sadly.  "I 
wish  I  could  think  so,  but  in  the  past  history  of 
all  republics  whenever  section  has  arrayed  itself 
against  section  the  result  has  been  either  a 
peaceful  separation,  or  civil  war ;  nor  can  we 
\iope  to  be  an  exception  to  the  rule. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  259 

"I  should  monrn  over  either,"  said  Elsie, 
"  1  cannot  bear  to  contemplate  the  dismember- 
ment of  onr  great,  glorious  old  Union.  Foreign 
nations  would  never  respect  either  portion  as 
they  do  the  undivided  whole." 

"  No  ;  and  I  can't  believe  either  section  can 
be  so  mad  as  to  go  that  length,"  remarked  her 
husband,  fondling  his  baby  daughter  as  he 
spoke.  "  The  North,  of  course,  does  not  desire  a 
separation  ;  but  if  the  South  goes,  will  be  pretty 
sure  to  let  her  go  peaceably." 

"I  doubt  it,  Travilla  ;  and  even  if  a  peace- 
able separation  should  be  allowed  at  first,  so 
many  causes  of  contention  would  result  (such  as 
the  control  of  the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi, 
the  refusal  of  the  North  to  restore  runaway 
negroes,  etc.,  etc.),  that  it  would  soon  come  to 
blows." 

"Hoi ace,  you  frighten  me,"  said  Eose,  who 
had  come  in  while  they  were  talking. 

The  color  faded  from  Elsie's  cheek,  and  a 
shudder  ran  over  her,  as  she  turned  eagerly  to 
hear  her  husband  reply. 

"Why  cross  the  bridge  before  we  come  to 
it,  Dinsmore  ? "  he  answered  cheerily;  meeting 
his  wife's  anxious  look  with  one  so  fond  and  freo 
from  care,  that  her  heart  grew  light ;  "  surely 
there'll  be  no  fighting  where  there  is  no  yoke  of 
oppression  to  cast  off.  There  can  be  no  effect 
without  a  cause." 


260  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  The  accursed  lust  of  power  on  the  part  of  a 
few  selfish,  unprincipled  men,  may  invent  a  cause, 
and  for  the  carrying  out  of  their  own  ambitious 
schemes,  they  may  lead  the  people  to  believe 
and  act  upon  it.  No  one  proposes  to  interfere 
with  our  institution  where  it  already  exists — 
even  the  Republican  party  has  emphatically 
denied  any  such  intention — yet  the  hue  and  cry 
has  been  raised  that  slavery  will  be  abolished  by 
the  incoming  administration,  arms  put  into  the 
hands  of  the  blacks,  and  a  servile  insurrection 
will  bring  untold  horrors  to  the  hearths  and 
homes  of  the  South." 

"  Oh,  dreadful,  dreadful !  cried  Rose. 

"  But,  my  dear,  there  is  really  no  such  dan- 
ger :  the  men  (unscrupulous  politicians)  do  not 
believe  it  themselves  ;  but  they  want  power,  and 
as  they  could  never  succeed  in  getting  the  masses 
to  rebel  to  compass  their  selfish  ends,  they  have 
invented  this  falsehood  and  are  deceiving  the  peo- 
ple with  it." 

"  Don't  put  all  the  blame  on  one  side,  Dins- 
more,"  said  Mr.  Tra villa. 

"  No  ;  that  would  be  very  unfair.  The  fram- 
ers  of  our  constitution  looked  to  gradual  eman- 
cipation to  rid  us  of  this  blot  on  our  escutcheon, 
this  palpable  inconsistency  between  our  conduct 
and  our  political  creed. 

"It  did  so  in  a  number  of  the  States,  and 
probably  would  ere  this  in  all,  but  for  the  fierce 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  261 

attacks  of  a  few  ultra-abolitionists,  -who  were  mora 
zealous  to  pull  the  mote  out  of  their  brother's 
eye  than  the  beam  out  of  their  own,  and  so 
exasperated  the  Southern  people  by  their  whole- 
sale abuse  and  denunciations,  that  all  thought 
of  emancipation  was  given  up. 

"It  is  human  nature  to  cling  the  tighter  to 
anything  another  attempts  to  force  from  you  ; 
even  though  you  may  have  felt  ready  enough  to 
give  it  up  of  your  own  free  will." 

"Very  true,"  said  TrariUa,  "and  Garrison 
and  his  crew  would  have  been  at  better  work 
repenting  of  their  own  sins,  than  denouncing 
those  of  their  neighbors/' 

"  But,  papa,  you  don't  think  it  can  come  to 
war,  a  civil  war,  in  our  dear  country  ?  the  best 
land  the  sun  shines  on  ;  and  where  there  is  none 
of  the  oppression  that  makes  a  wise  man  mad  ! " 

"  I  fear  it,  daughter,  I  greatly  fear  it  ;  but 
we  will  cast  this  care,  as  well  as  all  others,  upon 
Him  who  '  doeth  according  to  His  will,  in  the 
army  of  heaven  and  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  earth.' " 

What  a  winter  of  uncertainty  and  gloom  to 
Americans,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  was  that 
of  1860-'61  I  Each  mail  brought  to  our  anxious 
friends  in  Naples  news  calculated  to  depress  them 
more  and  more  in  view  of  the  calamities  that 
seemed  to  await  their  loved  land. 

State  after  State  was  seceding  and  seizing 


262  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

apon  United  States  property  within  its  limits— 
forts,  arsenals,  navy-yards,  custom-houses,  mints, 
ships,  armories,  and  militjiry  stores — while  the 
government  at  Washington  remained  inactive, 
doubtless  fearing  to  precipitate  the  civil  strife. 

Still  Mr.  Travilla,  Eose,  and  Elsie,  like  many 
lovers  of  the  Union,  both  North  and  South,  clung 
to  the  hope  that  war  might  yet  be  averted. 

At  length  came  the  news  of  the  formation  of 
the  Confederacy  :  Davis's  election  as  its  presi- 
dent ;  then  of  the  firing  upon  the  Star  of  the 
West,  an  unarmed  vessel  bearing  troops  and  sup- 
plies to  Fort  Sumter. 

"  Well,  the  first  gun  has  been  fired,"  said  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  laid  down  the 
paper  from  which  he  had  been  reading  the 
account. 

"  But  perhaps  it  may  be  the  only  one,  papa,' 
remarked  Elsie  hopefully. 

"  I  wish  it  may,"  replied  her  father,  rising 
and  beginning  to  pace  to  and  fro,  as  was  his  wont 
when  excited  or  disturbed. 

The  next  news  from  America  was  looked  foi 
with  intense  anxiety.  It  was  delayed  loager 
than  usual ;  and  at  length  a  heavy  mail  came,  con- 
sisting of  letters  and  papers  of  various  dates  from 
the  twelfth  to  the  twentieth  of  April,  and  bring 
ing  news  of  the  most  exciting  character  in  the 
fall  of  Fort  Samter  :  the  call  of  the  president  for 
seventy-five  thousand  troops  to  defend  the  cap! 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  262 

cai ,  the  seizure  of  the  United  States  armory 
at  Harper's  Ferry  by  the  Confederates ;  the 
attack  on  the  Massachusetts  troops  while  passing 
through  Baltimore,  and  lastly  the  seizure  of  Nor- 
folk Navy-yard. 

Dinner  was  just  over  at  the  villa,,  the  family 
still  chatting  over  the  dessert,  children  and  all  in 
an  unusually  merry  mood,  when  this  mail  was 
brought  in  by  a  servant,  and  handed  to  Mr. 
Dinsrnore. 

He  promptly  distributed  it,  took  up  the  paper 
of  the  earliest  date,  and  glancing  over  the  head 
ings,  exclaimed,  with  a  groan,  "  It  has  come  ! " 

"What?"  queried  the  others,  in  excited 
chorus. 

"  War  !  My  country  !  oh,  my  country  !  Fort 
Sumter  has  fallen  after  a  terrific  bombardment 
of  thirty-six  hours."  And  he  proceeded  to  read 
aloud  the  account  of  the  engagement,  the  others 
listening  in  almost  breathless  silence. 

"And  they  have  dared  to  fire  upon  the  flag  ! 
the  emblem  of  our  nationality,  the  symbol  of 
Revolutionary  glory  ;  to  tear  it  down  and  trample 
it  in  the  dust  ! "  cried  Mr.  Travilla,  pushing  back 
his  chair  in  unwonted  excitement ;  "  shameful, 
ghamef  ul ! " 

Tears  were  rolling  down  Elsie's  cheeks,  and 
Rose's  eyes  were  full. 

"Let  us  adjourn  to  the  library  and  learn 
together  all  these  papers  and  letters  can  tell  ug/ 


264  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  rising.  "  'Twill  be  better 
bo  ;  we  shall  need  the  support  of  each  other's 
sympathy." 

He  led  the  way  and  the  rest  followed. 

The  papers  were  examined  first,  by  the  gen 
tlemen,  now  the  one  and  now  the  other  reading 
an  article  aloud,  the  excitement  and  distress  of 
all  increasing  with  each  item  of  intelligence  in 
regard  to  public  affairs.  Rose  and  Elsie  opened 
their  letters,  and  now  and  then,  in  the  short  pauses 
of  the  reading,  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  their 
contents. 

Elsie's  were  from  her  Aunt  Adelaide,  Walter, 
and  Enna.  Rose's  from  her  mother,  Eichard, 
May,  and  Sophie. 

The  last  seemed  written  in  a  state  of  dis- 
traction. 

"  Rose,  Rose,  I  think  I  shall  go  crazy  !  my 
husband  and  his  brothers  have  enlisted  in  the 
Confederate  army.  They,  Harry  especially,  are 
furious  at  the  North  and  full  of  fight ;  and  I 
know  my  brothers  at  home  will  enlist  on  the 
other  side  ;  and  what  if  they  should  meet  and  kill 
each  other  !  Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  my  heart  is 
like  to  break  ! 

"  And  what  is  it  all  about  ?  I  can't  see  that 
anybody's  oppressed ;  but  when  I  tell  Harry  so,  he 
just  laughs  and  says,  '  No  ;  we're  not  going  to 
wait  till  they  have  time  to  rivet  our  chains.' 
* But,'  1  say   ( I've  had  neither  sight  nor  sound  of 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  265 

eiiains  ;  wait  at  least  till  you  hear  their  clank.' 
Then  he  laughs  again,  but  says  soothingly, 
1  Never  mind,  little  wife  ;  don't  distress  yourself; 
the  North  won't  fight ;  or  if  they  do  try  it,  will 
eoon  give  it  up.'  But  I  know  they  won't  giye 
up  :  they  wouldn't  be  Americans  if  they  did. 

"Arthur  and  Walter  Dinsmore  were  here  yes- 
terday, and  Arthur  is  worse  than  Harry  a  great 
deal ;  actually  told  me  he  wouldn't  hesitate  to 
shoot  down  any  or  all  of  my  brothers,  if  he  met 
them  in  Federal  uniform.  Walter  is  almost  silent 
on  the  subject,  and  has  not  yet  enlisted.  Arthur 
taunted  him  with  being  for  the  Union,  and  gaid 
if  he  was  quite  sure  of  it  he'd  shoot  him,  or  help 
hang  him  to  the  nearest  tree. 

" Oh,  Rose!  pray,  pray  that  this  dreadful 
war  may  be  averted  ! " 

Rose  felt  almost  stunned  with  horror  as  she 
read;  but  her  tears  fell  fast  as  she  hurriedly 
perused  the  contents  of  the  other  three,  learning 
from  them  that  Richard,  Harold,  and  Fred  had 
already  enlisted,  and  Edward  would  do  the  same 
should  the  war  continue  long. 

' '  My  heart  is  torn  in  two  ! "  she  cried,  look- 
in  g  piteously  up  in  her  husband's  face,  with  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  own. 

1 '  What  is  it,  my  darling  ?  "  he  asked,  coming 
to  her  and  taking  her  cold  hands  in  his. 

"  Oh  my  country  !  my  country  !  My  brothers, 
foo — and  yours  !  they  are  pitted  against  each 
12 


266  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

other — have    enlisted  in  the  opposing  armies. 
Oh,  Horace,  Horace  !  what  ever  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  God  reigns,  dearest ;  let  that  comfort  you 
and  all  of  us,"  he  said,  in  moved  tones.  "  It  is 
dreadful,  dreadful !  Brothers,  friends,  neighbors, 
with  hearts  full  of  hatred  and  ready  to  imbrue 
their  hands  in  each  other's  blood  ;  and  for  what  ? 
That  a  few  ambitious,  selfish,  unscrupulous  men 
may  retain  and  increase  their  power ;  for  this 
they  are  ready  to  shed  the  blood  of  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  their  own  countrymen,  and*  bring  utter 
ruin  upon  our  beautiful,  sunny  South. 

"  Oh,  papa,  surely  not !  "  cried  Elsie  ;  "  these 
papers  say  the  war  cannot  last  more  than  three 
months." 

"  They  forget  that  it  will  be  American  against 
American.  If  it  is  over  in  three  years,  'twill 
be  shorter  than  I  expect." 

Elsie  was  weeping,  scarcely  less  distressed 
than  Rose. 

"  We  will,  at  least,  hope  for  better  things,  lit- 
tle wife,"  her  husband  said,  drawing  her  to  him 
with  caressing  motion.  "What  do  your  letters 
say?" 

"  They  are  full  of  the  war* ;  it  is  the  all-absorb- 
ing theme  with  them,  as  with  us.  Aunt  Adelaide's 
is  very  sad.  Her  heart  clings  to  the  South,  as 
ours  do  ;  yet,  like  us,  she  has  a  strong  love  for  the 
old  Union. 

"  And  she's  very  fond  of  her  husband,  who* 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  28? 

she  says,  is  very  strong  for  the  Government ;  and 
then,  besides  her  distress  at  the  thought  that  he 
will  enlist,  her  heart  is  torn  with  anguish  because 
her  brothers  and  his  are  in  the  opposing  armies. 

"Oh,  Edward!  isn't  it  terrible?  Civil  war 
in  our  dear  land  !  So  many  whom  we  love  on 
both  sides!" 

There  was  a  moment  of  sorrowful  silence. 
Then  her  father  asked,  "  "What  does  Enna  say  ?" 

"  She  is  very  bitter,  papa  :  speaks  with  great 
contempt  of  the  North ;  exults  over  the  fall  of 
Fort  Sumter  and  the  seizure  of  United  States 
property ;  glories  in  the  war-spirit  of  Dick  and 
Arthur,  and  sneers  at  poor  Walter  because  he  is 
silent  and  sad,  and  declines,  for  the  present  at 
least,  to  take  any  part  in  the  strife.  Grandpa, 
she  says,  and  his  mother,  too,  are  almost  ready  to 
turn  him  out  of  the  house  ;  for  they  are  as  hot 
secessionists  as  can  be  found  anywhere. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  Walter  too,  papa.  He 
writes  in  a  very  melancholy  strain  ;  hints  mildly 
at  the  treatment  he  receives  at  home  ;  says  he 
can't  bear  the  idea  of  fighting  against  the  old  flag, 
and  still  less  the  old  friends  he  has  at  the  North, 
and  wishes  he  was  with  us  or  anywhere  out  of  the 
country  that  he  might  escape  being  forced  to  take 
part  in  the  quarrel." 

"Poor  fellow  !  sighed  Mr.  Dinsmore.  "Ah, 
i  have  a  letter  here  from  my  father  that  I  hare 
not  yet  opened. " 


86$  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

He  took  it  from  the  table  as  he  spoke,  Hia 
face  darkened  as  he  read,  the  frown  and  3 tern 
expression  reminding  Elsie  of  some  of  the  scenes 
in  her  early  days  ;  but  he  handed  the  missive  tc 
Kose,  remarking,  in  a  calm,  quiet  tone,  "  My 
father  expects  me  to  be  as  strong  a  secessionist 
as  himself." 

"But  you're  for  the  Union,  papa,  are  you 
not  ?"  asked  Horace.  "You'd  never  fire  upon 
the  Stars  and  Stripes — the  dear  old  flag  that  pro- 
tects us  here  ?  " 

"  No,  my  son.  I  love  the  dear  South,  which 
has  always  been  my  home,  better  far  than  any 
other  of  the  sections  ;  yet  I  love  the  whole  better 
than  a  part." 

"So  do  I ! "  exclaimed  Eose  warmly  ;  " and 
if  Pennsylvania,  my  own  native  State,  should  rebel 
against  the  general  government,  I'd  say,  '  Put  her 
down  with  a  strong  hand '  ;  and  just  so  with  any 
State  or  section,  Eastern,  Northern,  Middle,  or 
Western.  I've  always  been  taught  that  my  coun- 
try is  the  Union  ;  and  I  think  that  teaching  hag 
been  general  through  the  North." 

"  It  is  what  my  mother  taught  me,  and  what 
I  have  taught  my  children,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  ; 
"  not  to  love  the  South  or  my  native  State  less, 
out  the  Union  more.  I  was  very  young  when  I 
lost  my  mother ;  but  that,  and  some  other  of  hex 
teachings,  I  have  never  forgotten." 

"  There  is,  I  believe,  a  strong  love  for  the  old 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  %M 

Union  throughout  the  whole  South,"  remarked 
Mr.  Tra  villa ;  "there  would  be  no  rebellion 
among  the  masses  there,  but  for  the  deceptions 
practised  upon  them  by  their  leaders  and  politi- 
cians ;  and  it  is  tney  who  have  been  whirling  the 
States  out  of  the  Union,  scarce  allowing  the"  peo- 
ple a  voice  in  the  matter." 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  the  indignation  of  the 
North  over  the  insult  to  the  flag,"  said  Elsie ; 
"  nor  the  furor  for  it  that  is  sweeping  over  the 
land." 

"  I'd  like  to  be  there  to  help  fling  it  to  the 
breeze,"  cried  Horace  excitedly  ;  "  and  to  see  how 
gay  the  streets  must  be  with  it  flying  everywhere. 
Yes,  and  I'd  like  to  help  fight.  Papa,  am  I  not 
old  enough  ?  mayn't  I  go  ?  " 

"  No,  foolish  boy,  you  are  much  too  young, 
not  yet  fourteen.  And  suppose  you  were  old 
enough,  would  you  wish  to  light  your  uncles  ? 
kill  one  of  them,  perhaps  ?  Uncle  Walter,  for 
instance  ?  " 

"  Oh  papa,  no,  no,  no  !  I  wouldn't  for  the 
world  hurt  one  hair  of  dear  Uncle  Wal's  head  ; 
no,  not  if  he  were  the  hottest  kind  of  secessionist" 

"  Kill  Uncle  Wal !  why  Horace,  how  could 
you  ever  think  of  such  a  thing  ? "  exclaimed 
Bosebud.  "  And  mamma  and  sister  Elsie,  why 
are  you  both  crying  so  ?  " 

All  the  afternoon  the  elders  of  the  family 
remained  together,  talking  over  the  news — they 


370  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

could  scarce  think  or  speak  of  anything  elae  : 
very  grave  and  sad  all  of  them,  the  ladies  now 
and  then  dropping  a  tear  or  two,  while  each  paper 
was  carefully  scanned  again  and  again,  le3t  some 
item  on  the  all-absorbing  subject  might  hare 
been  overlooked,  and  every  letter  that  had  any 
bearing  upon  it  read  and  re-read  till  its  contents 
had  been  fully  digested. 

May's  gave  a  graphic  account  of  the  excite- 
ment in  Philadelphia  ;  the  recruiting  and  drilling 
of  troops,  the  making  of  flags,  the  constant,  uni- 
versal singing  of  patriotic  songs,  etc.,  then  closed 
with  the  story  of  the  sorrowful  parting  with  the 
dear  brothers  who  might  never  return  from  the 
battle-field. 

It  had  been  a  bright,  warm  day,  but  at  even- 
ing the  sea  breeze  came  in  cool  and  fresh ;  thin 
clouds  were  scudding  across  the  sky,  hiding 
the  stars  and  giving  but  a  faint  and  fitful  view  of 
the  young  moon  that  hung,  a  bright  crescent, 
Amid  their  murky  folds. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  pacing  slowly  to  and  fro 
upon  an  open  colonnade  overlooking  the  bay. 
He  walked  with  bent  head  and  folded  arms,  ae 
one  in  painful  thought. 

A  slight  girlish  figure  came  gliding  toward 
him  from  the  open  doorway.  "  Papa,  dear,  dear 
papa,"  murmured  a  voice  tremulous  with  emo- 
tion, "you  are  very  sad  to-night;  would  that 
your  daughter  could  comfort  you  ! n 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  271 

He  paused  in  his  walk,  took  her  in  his  armi 
a&&  folded  her  close  to  his  heart. 

"  Thank  you,  darling.  Yes,  I  am  sad,  as  we 
all  are.  Would  that  I  could  comfort  you,  and 
keep  all  sorrow  from  your  life.  Nay,  that  iu 
not  a  right  wish,  for  '  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he 
reeeiveth.'  'As  many  as  I  love  I  rebuke  and 
chasten.'  * 

"  Yes,  papa,  those  words  make  me  more  than 
willing  to  bear  trials.  But  oh,  how  dreadful,  how 
dreadful,  to  know  that  our  countrymen  are  already 
engaged  in  spilling  each  other's  blood  1 " 

"  Yes,  that  is  harrowing  enough  ;  but  that  it 
should  be  also  our  near  and  dear  relations  !  Elsie, 
I  am  thinking  of  my  young  brothers ;  they  are 
not  Christians  ;  nor  is  my  poor  old  father.  How 
can  they  bear  the  trials  just  at  hand.  How  unfit 
they  are  to  meet  death,  especially  in  the  sudden, 
awful  form  in  which  it  is  like  to  meet  those  who 
seek  the  battle-field.  Daughter,  you  must  help 
me  pray  for  them,  pleading  the  promise,  *  If  two 
of  you  shall  agree.'  " 

"I  will,  papa ;  and  oh,  I  do  feel  deeply  foi 
them.  Poor  Walter  and  poor,  poor  grandpa  1 
think  he  loves  you  best  of  all  his  sons,  papa  ;  but 
it  would  be  very  terrible  to  him  to  have  the 
others  killed  or  maimed." 

"  Yes,  it  would  indeed.  Arthur  is  his  moth- 
er's idol,  and  I  daresay  she  now  almost  regrets 


1372  ELSIE1 8  WOMANHOOD. 

that  he  lias  so  entirely  recovered  from  his  lame- 
ness as  to  be  fit  for  the  army." 

He  drew  her  to  a  seat  "  The  babies  are  in 
bed,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Yes,  papa;  I  left  my  darlings  sleeping 
sweetly.  I  am  trying  to  train  them  to  regular 
habits  and  early  hours,  as  you  did  me." 

"  That  is  right." 

"  Papa,  it  is  so  sweet  to  be  a  mother  !  to 
have  my  little  Elsie  in  my  lap,  as  I  had  but  a  few 
moments  since,  and  feel  the  clasp  of  her  arms 
about  my  neck,  or  the  tiny  hands  patting  and 
stroking  my  face,  the  sweet  baby  lips  showering 
kisses  all  over  it,  while  she  coo3  and  rejoices  over 
me  ',  '  Mamma  !  mamma,  my  mamma  !  Elsie's 
dear  mamma !  Elsie's  own  sweet,  pretty  mam- 
ma.' Ah,  though  our  hearts  ache  for  the  dear 
land  of  our  birth,  we  still  have  many  many  bless- 
ings left." 

"  We  have  indeed." 

Mr.  Travilla,  Eose,  and  Horace  now  joined 
them,  and  the  last-named  besieged  his  father  with 
questions  about  the  war  and  its  causes  ;  all  of 
which  were  patiently  answered  to  the  best  of  Mr. 
Dingmore's  ability,  Mr.  Travilla  now  and  then 
being  appealed  to  for  further  information,  or  his 
opinion,  while  the  ladies  listened  and  occasionally 
put  in  a  remark  or  a  query. 

From  that  day  the  mails  from  America  were 
looked  for  with  redoubled  anxiety  and  eagerness  ? 


EL8IE'8  WOMANHOOD.  273 

though  the  war  news  was  always  painful,  which- 
ever side  had  gained  a  yictory  or  suffered  defeat. 

At  first,  papers  and  letters  had  been  received 
from  both  North  and  South,  giving  them  the 
advantage  of  hearing  the  report  from  each  side  j 
but  soon  the  blockade  6hut  off  nearly  all  inter- 
course- with  the  South,  a  mail  from  thence  reach- 
ing them  only  occasionally,  by  means  of  some 
Confederate  or  foreign  craft  eluding  the  vigilance 
of  the  besieging  squadron. 

Early  in  June  there  came  a  letter  from  Miss 
Stanhope,  addressed  to  Elsie.  Like  all  received 
from  America  now,  it  dwelt  almost  exclusively 
upon  matters  connected  with  the  fearful  struggle 
just  fairly  begun  between  the  sections.  The  old 
lady's  heart  seemed  full  of  love  for  the  South,  yet 
she  was  strongly  for  the  Union,  and  said  she 
should  be  so  ii  any  other  section  or  State  rebelled. 

Lansdale  was  full  of  excitement,  flags  flying 
everywhere  ;  they  had  one  streaming  across  from 
the  top  of  the  house,  and  another  from  a  tree  in 
the  garden. 

Harry  had  enlisted  in  response  to  the  first 
call  of  troops,  and  was  now  away,  fighting  in 
Virginia ;  while  she,  praying  night  and  day  for 
his  safety,  was,  with  most  of  the  ladieB  of  the 
town,  busy  as  a  bee  knitting  stockings  and  mak- 
ing shirts  for  the  men  in  the  field,  and  preparing 
lint,  bandages,  and  little  dainties  for  the  sick  and 
wounded. 


Chapter  Hkntj-setm^. 

Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm 

While  these  hot  breezes  blow  ; 
Be  llie  the  night-dew's  cooling  balm 

Tpon  earth's  fevered  brow." 

— H.  Ban  am. 

"  Fear  not ;  I  will  help  thee." 

—UAJxa  xiil.  14. 

Dear  old  auntie  !  to  think  how  hard  at 
rfork  for  her  country  she  is,  while  I  sit  idle 
here/'  sighed  Elsie,  closing  the  letter  after  read- 
ing it  aloud  to  the  assembled  family.  "  Mamma, 
papa,  Edward,  is  there  nothing  we  can  do  ?  " 

"We  can  do  just  what  they  are  doing, * 
replied  Rose  with  energy.  "  I  wonder  I  had  not 
thought  of  it  before  ;  shirts,  stockings,  lint,  band- 
ages, we  can  prepare  them  all ;  and  send  with 
them  such  fruits  and  delicacies  as  will  carry  from 
thi!  far^ofi  place.     What  say  you,  gentlemen  ?" 

"I  think  you  can,"  was  the  simultaneous 
reply  ;  Mr.  Travilla  adding,  "  and  we  can  help 
with  the  lint,  and  by  running  the  sewing- 
machines.  I'd  be  glad  to  add  to  the  comfort  of 
the  poor  fellows  on  both  sides," 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  175 

"  And  money  is  needed  by  their  aid  societies,*5 
added  Mr,  Dinsmore. 

u  And  I  can  send  tha* ! "  Elsie  exclaimed, 
joyously. 

"  Yes,  we  all  can,"  said  her  father. 

Several  busy  weeks  followed,  and  a  large  bog 
was  packed  and  sent  off. 

"If  that  arrives  safely  we  will  send  another, n 
they  said  ;  for  news  had  reached  them  that  such 
supplies  were  sorely  needed. 

"What!  at  it  again,  little  wife?"  queried 
Mr.  Trayilla,  entering  Elsie's  boudoir  the  next 
morning,  to  find  her  delicate  fingers  busy  with 
knitting-needles  and  coarse  blue  yarn. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said^  smiling  up  at  him,  "it 
seems  a  slight  relief  to  my  anxiety  about  my 
country,  to  be  doing  something,  if  it  is  only  this." 

"  Ah  !  then  I'll  take  lessons,  if  you,  or  Aunt 
Chloe  there  will  teach  me,*  he  returned,  laugh- 
ingly drawing  up  a  chair  and  taking  a  seat  by 
her  side.  "  Mammy,  can  you  supply  another  set 
of  needles,  and  more  yarn  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa ; "  and  laying  down  the  stocking 
she  was  at  work  upon,  away  she  went  in  search 
of  them. 

"  Papa,  see  !  so  pitty  ! "  cried  a  little  voice  ; 
and  "  wee  Elsie  "  was  at  his  knee,  with  a  diamond, 
necklace  in  her  hand. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  gently  taking  it  from  her, 
"bat  rather  too  valuable  a  plaything  for  m? 


276  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

little  pet  How  did  she  get  hold  of  it,  dearest  F  * 
he  asked,  turning  to  his  wife. 

u  Mamma,  say  Elsie  may.  Please,  papa,  let 
ffisie  have  it,"  pleaded  the  little  one  with  quiver- 
ing lip  and  fast-filling  eyes. 

"  I  gave  her  leave  to  look  over  the  contents 
of  my  jewel  box ;  she  is  a  very  careful  little 
body,  and  mammy  and  I  are  both  on  the  watch  : " 
answered  mamma.  "It  is  a  great  treat  to  her  ; 
and  she  takes  up  only  one  article  at  a  time,  ex- 
amines it  till  satisfied,  then  lays  it  back  exactly  as 
she  found  it.     So  please,  papa,  may  she  go  on  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  mamma  gave  permission  it  is  all 
right,  darling,"  he  said,  caressing  the  child  and 
returning  the  necklace. 

"  Tank  oo,  papa,  mamma  ;  Elsie  be  very  tare- 
ful  mamma's  pitty  sings,"  she  cried  with  a  glee- 
ful laugh,  holding  up  her  rosebud  mouth  for  a 
kiss,  first  to  one,  then  the  other. 

"  Let  papa  see  where  you  put  it,  precious," 
he  said,  following  her  as  she  tripped  across  the 
room  and  seated  herself  on  a  cushion  in  front  of 
fche  box. 

"Dere,  papa,  dus  where  Elsie  dot  it,"  she 
said,  laying  it  carefully  back  in  its  proper  place. 
'  See,  so  many,  many  pitty  sings  in  mamma's 
box." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  passing  his  eye  thoughtfully 
from  one  to  another  of  the  brilliant  collection  of 
rings,  brooches,  chains,  bracelets,  and  necklaces 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  %Tt 

sparkling  with  gems — diamonds,  rubies,  ame- 
thysts, pearls,  emeralds,  and  other  precious  stones* 
"  Little  wife,  your  jewels  alone  are  worth  what 
to  very  many  would  be  a  handsome  fortune." 

"  Yes,  Edward,  and  is  it  not  really  a  pity  to 
have  so  much  locked  up  in  them  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  a  good  investment ;  especially  ss 
things  are  at  present." 

"  I  could  do  very  well  without  them  ;  should 
never  have  bought  them  for  myself ;  they  are 
almost  all  your  gifts  and  papa's,  or  his  purchases." 

Aunt  Ohloe  had  returned  with  the  needles 
and  yarn,  and  now  Elsie  began  giving  the  lesson 
in  knitting,  both  she  and  her  pupil  making  very 
merry  over  it. 

Rose  and  Mr.  Dinsmore  presently  joined  them, 
and  the  latter,  not  to  be  outdone  by  his  son-in-law, 
invited  his  wife  to  teach  him. 

Horace  was  at  his  lessons,  but  Rosebud,  or 
Rosie  as  she  had  gradually  come  to  be  called, 
soon  followed  her  parents.  She  was  a  bright, 
merry  little  girl  of  six,  very  different  from  what 
her  sister  had  been  at  that  age  ;  full  of  fun  and 
frolicsome  as  a  kitten,  very  fond  of  her  father, 
liking  to  climb  upon  his  knee  to  be  petted  and 
caressed,  but  clinging  still  more  to  her  sweet, 
gentle  mamma. 

Mr.  Travilla  and  she  were  the  best  of  friends  ; 
she  was  devotedly  attached  to  her  sister,  and  con- 


878  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

adored  it  "  very  nice  and  funny,"  that  she  was 
aunt  to  wee  Elsie  and  baby  Eddie. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  the  moment  she  came  into 
the  room,  "  what  is  wee  Elsie  doing  ?  Mamma, 
may  I,  too  r " 

"  May  you  what  ?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  child  doing  ?  playing 
with  your  jewels,  Elsie  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore 
in  a  tone  of  surprise,  noticing  for  the  first  time 
what  was  the  employment  of  his  little  grand- 
daughter. 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  but  she  is  very  careful,  and  I 
am  watching  her." 

"  I  should  not  allow  it,  if  she  were  my  child. 
No,  Rosie,  you  may  not ;  you  are  not  a  careful 
little  girl." 

Rosie  was  beginning  to  pout,  but  catching 
the  stern  look  in  her  father's  eye,  quickly  gave  it 
up,  her  face  clearing  as  if  by  magic. 

"Papa,"  Elsie  asked  in  a  low  tone,  "do  you 
wish  me  to  take  away  those  costly  playthings  from 
my  little  girl?" 

"My  dear  daughter,"  he  said,  smiling  ten- 
derly upon  her,  "  I  have  neither  the  right  nor  the 
wish  to  interfere  with  you  and  your  children ; 
especially  when  your  husband  approves  of  your 
management.  I  only  fear  you  may  suffer  loss. 
How  easy  a  valuable  ring  might  slip  through  the 
little  fingers  and  roll  away  into  some  crevice 
where  it  would  never  be  found, " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  27* 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  rather  hazardous,"  she 
acknowledged.  "  Mammy,  sit  close  to  Elsie  and 
keep  a  careful  watch,  lest  she  should  drop 
something." 

"I  begin  to  think  there's  truth  in  the  old 
saw,  '  It's  hard  to  teach  old  dogs  new  tricks,' " 
remarked  Mr.  Travilla,  with  a  comically  rueful 
face.  "  I've  a  mind  to  give  it  up.  "What  do  you 
say,  Dinsmore  ?  " 

"  That  you  wouldn't  make  a  good  soldier,  if 
you  are  so  easily  conquered,  Travilla." 

"  Oh,  fighting's  another  thing,  but  I'll  per- 
severe as  long  as  you  do  ;  unless  I  find  I'm  weary- 
ing my  teacher." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  learn  faster  with  a  better 
teacher,"  said  Elsie,  (fI  am  sure  the  fault  is  not 
in  the  scholar  ;  because  I  know  he's  bright  and 
talented." 

"  Ah  !  then  I  shall  'xy  harder  than  ever,  to 
save  your  reputation  ;  but  take  a  recess  now,  for 
here  comes  my  boy,  reaching  out  his  arms  to 
papa.  Bring  him  here,  Dinah.  Papa's  own  boy, 
he  looks  beautiful  and  as  bright  as  the  day." 

"  Mamma  thinks  he's  a  very  handsome  mixture 
of  papa  and  grandpa,"  Elsie  said,  leaning  over  to 
caress  the  babe,  now  crowing  in  his  father's  arms. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  inherits  too  much  of  his 
grandpa's  temper,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
but  with  a  glance  of  loving  pride  bestowed  ujpon 
the  beautiful  babe. 


280  JSLBIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

rt  I,  for  one,  have  no  objection,  provided  he 
learns  to  control  it  as  well,"  said  Mr.  Travilla ; 
"he  will  make  the  finer  character." 

Little  Elsie  had  grown  weary  of  her  play. 

"  Put  box  way  now,  mammy,"  she  said,  get- 
ting np  from  her  cushion ;  "  wee  Elsie  don't 
want  any  more.     Mamma  take  ;  Elsie  so  tired." 

The  baby  voice  sounded  weak  and  languid, 
and  tottering  to  her  mother's  side,  she  almost  fell 
into  her  lap. 

"  Oh,  my  baby  !  my  precious  darling,  what 
is  it  ?  "  cried  Elsie,  catching  her  up  in  her  arms. 
"  Papa  !  Edward  !  she  is  dying  ! " 

For  the  face  had  suddenly  lost  all  its  color 
the  eyes  were  rolled  upward,  the  tiny  fists  tightly 
clenched,  and  the  little  limbs  had  grown  stiff  and 
rigid  on  the  mother's  lap. 

Mr.  Travilla  hastily  set  down  the  babe,  and 
turned  to  look  at  his  little  girl,  his  face  full  of 
alarm  and  distress. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  sprang  to  his  daughter's  side, 
and  meeting  her  look  of  agony,  said  soothingly, 
"No,  dearest,  it  is  a  spasm >  ahe  will  soon  be 
over  it." 

"  Yes ;  don't  be  so  terrified,  dear  child," 
said  Rose,  dropping  her  work  and  hurrying  to 
Elsie's  assistance;  "they  are  not  unusual  with 
children  ;  I  have  seen  both  May  and  Daisy  have 
them.  Quick,  Aunt  Chloe !  a  cloth  dipped  in 
spirits  of  turpentine,  to  lay  over  the  stomach  and 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  B81 

bowels,  and  another  to  put  between  her  shoulders, 
It  is  the  best  thing  we  can  do  till  we  get  a  doctor 
here,     But,  ah,  see  !  it  is  already  passing  away." 

That  was  true  ;  the  muscles  were  beginning 
to  relax,  and  in  another  moment  the  eyes  resumed 
their  natural  appearance,  the  hands  were  no 
longer  clenched,  and  alow,  plaintiye,  "Mamma," 
came  from  the  little  lips. 

"  Mamma  is  here,  darling,"  Elsie  said,  amid 
her  fast-dropping  tears,  covering  the  little  wan 
face  with  kisses,  as  she  held  it  to  her  bosom. 

"Thank  God  !  she  is  still  ours  !"  exclaimed 
the  father,  almost  under  his  breath  ;  then,  a  little 
louder,  "  Elsie,  dear  wife,  I  shall  go  at  once  for 
Dr.  Channing,  an  English  physician  who  hag 
been  highly  recommended  to  me." 

"  Do,  dear  husband,  and  urge  him  to  come  at 
once,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone  full  of  anxiety. 

He  left  the  room,  returning  with  the  physi- 
cian within  half  an  hour,  to  find  the  little  girl 
asleep  on  her  mother's  breast. 

"Ah,  I  hope  she  is  not  going  to  be  yery  ill," 
said  the  doctor,  taking  gentle  hold  of  her  tiny 
wrist  '  She  seems  easy  now,  and  her  papa  tells 
me  the  spasm  was  of  very  short  duration." 

She  woke,  apparently  free  from  suffering, 
allowed  her  papa  to  take  her,  that  mamma's 
weary  arms  might  rest,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon  even  got  down  from  his  knee,  and 
played  about  the  room  for  a  little  while,  but  Ian- 


282  ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD. 

guidly,  and  was  eoon  quite  willing  to  be  nursed 
again,  "  papa,  grandpa,  and  Mamma  Kose,"  as 
she  lovingly  called  her  young  and  fair  step-grand- 
mother, taking  turns  in  trying  to  relieve  and 
amuse  her. 

She  was  a  most  affectionate,  unselfish  little 
creature,  and  though  longing  to  lay  again  her 
weary  little  head  on  mamma's  breast,  and  feel 
the  enfolding  of  mamma's  dear  arms,  gave  up 
without  a  murmur,  when  told  that  "  poor 
mamma  was  tired  with  holding  so  big  a  girl  for 
eo  long,"  and  quietly  contented  herself  with  the 
attention  of  the  others. 

As  the  early  evening  hour  which  was  the 
children's  bed-time  drew  near,  Elsie  took  her  lit- 
tle girl  again  on  her  lap. 

"  Mamma,  pease  talk  to  Elsie,"  pleaded  the 
sweet  baby  voice,  while  the  curly  h^ad  fell  lan- 
guidly upon  her  shoulder,  and  a  tin}  uand,  hoi 
and  dry  with  fever,  softly  patted  her  chc^k. 

"What  about,  darling?" 

"'Bout  Jesus,  mamma.  Do  he  love  httk 
chillens  ?  do  he  love  wee  Elsie  ? 

The  gentle  voice  that  answered  was  full  of 
tears.  "  Yes,  darling,  mamma  and  papa,  and 
dear  grandpa  too,  love  you  more  than  tongue  cau 
tell,  but  Jesus  loves  you  better  still." 

"  Mamma,  may  Elsie  go  dere  ?  " 

"  Where,  my  precious  one  ?  " 

"To  Jesus,  mamma'  Elsie  ^ant  to  go  see 
Jesus." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  283 

A  sharp  pang  shot  through  the  young  moth- 
er's heart,  and  her  arms  tightened  their  clasp 
about  the  little  form,  while  the  hot  tears  chased 
each  other  adown  her  cheeks.  One  fell  on  the 
child's  face. 

"  What !  mamma  ky  ?  Mamma  don't  want 
Elsie  to  go  see  Jesus  ?  Den  Elsie  will  stay  wis 
mamma  and  papa.  Don't  ky,  Elsie's  mamma ;  " 
and  feebly  the  little  hand  tried  to  wipe  away  her 
mother's  tears. 

With  a  silent  prayer  for  help  to  control  her 
emotion,  Elsie  cleared  her  voice,  and  began  in 
low,  sweet  tones  the  old,  old  story  of  Jesus  and 
his  lore,  his  birth,  his  life,  his  death. 

"  Mamma,  Elsie  do  loye  Jesus ! "  were  the 
earnest  words  that  followed  the  close  of  the  nar- 
rative. "Say  prayer  now,  and  go  bed.  Elsie 
feel  sick.     Mamma,  stay  wis  Elsie  ?" 

"Yes,  my  precious  one,  mamma  will  stay 
close  beside  her  darling  as  long  as  she  wants  her. 
You  may  say  your  little  prayer  kneeling  in 
mamma's  lap  ;  and  then  she  will  sing  you  to 
sleep." 

"  Jesus  like  Elsie  do  dat  way  ?  " 

"Yes,  darling,  when  she's  sick." 

Mamma's  arms  encircled  and  upheld  the  little 
form,  the  chubby  hands  were  meekly  folded, 
and  the  soft  cheek  rested  against  hers,  while  the 
few  words  of  prayer  faltered  on  the  baby  tongue. 

Then,  the  posture  changed  to  a  more  restful 


28*  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

one,  the  sweet  yoice,  still  full  of  tears,  and  often 
trembling  with  emotion,  sang  the  little  one 
to  sleep. 

Laying  her  gently  in  her  crib,  Elsie  knelt 
beside  it,  sending  np  a  petition  with  strong  crying 
and  tears  ;  not  that  the  young  life  might  be 
spared,  unless  the  will  of  God  were  so,  but  that 
she  might  be  enabled  to  say,  with  all  her  heart, 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

Ere  she  had  finished,  her  husband  knelt  beside 
her  asking  the  same  for  her  and  himself. 

They  rose  up  together,  and  folded  to  his 
heart,  she  wept  out  her  sorrow  upon  his  breast. 

"You  are  very  weary,  little  wife,"  he  said 
tenderly,  passing  his  hand  caressingly  over  her 
hair  and  pressing  his  lips  again  and  again  to  the 
heated  brow. 

"It  is  rest  to  lay  my  head  here,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  But  you  must  not  stand  ; "  and  sitting  down 
he  drew  her  to  the  sofa,  still  keeping  his  arm 
about  her  waist.  "  Bear  up,  dear  wife,"  he  said, 
"we  will  hope  our  precious  darling  is  not 
very  ill." 

She  told  him  of  the  child's  words,  and  the  sod 
foreboding  that  had  entered  her  own  heart 

"While  there  is  life  there  is  hope,  dearest,* 
he  said,  with  assumed  cheerfulness.  "Let  us 
not  borrow  trouble.  Does  He  not  say  to  us,  as  to 
the  disciples  of  old,  '  It  is  I,  be  uot  afraid  ? '" 


ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD.  285 

"  Yes  ;  and  she  is  His  ;  only  lent  to  ns  for  a 
fsason  ;  and  we  dare  not  rebel  should  he  see  fit 
to  recall  his  own,"  she  answered,  amid  her  tears. 
"  Oh,  Edward,  I  am  so  glad  we  indulged  her  thia 
morning  in  her  wish  to  play  with  my  jewels  ! " 

"  Yes  ;  she  is  the  most  precions  of  them  all  " 
he  said  with  emotion. 

Aunt  Chloe,  drawing  near,  respectfully  sug- 
gested that  it  might  be  well  to  separate  the  chil- 
dren, in  case  the  little  girl's  illness  Bhould  proye 
to  be  contagious. 

"  That  is  a  wise  thought,  mammy,"  said  Elsie, 
"Is  it  not  Edward?" 

"  Yes,  wife ;  shall  we  take  our  little  daughter 
to  our  own  bedroom,  and  leaye  Eddie  in  posses- 
sion of  the  nursery  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  will  neyer  leaye  her  while  she  is  ill." 

Weeks  of  anxious  solicitude,  of  tenderest,  most 
careful  nursing,  followed  ;  for  the  little  one  was 
yery  ill,  and  for  some  time  grew  worse  hour  by 
hour.  For  days  there  was  little  hope  that  her 
life  would  be  spared,  and  a  solemn  silence  reigned 
through  the  house  ;  eyen  the  romping,  fun-loying 
Horace  and  Rosie,  awe-struck  into  stillness,  and 
often  shedding  tears — Horace  in  private,  fearing 
to  he  considered  unmanly,  but  Rosie  openly 
and  without  any  desire  of  concealment — at  the 
thought  that  the  darling  of  the  house  was  about 
to  pass  away  from  earth. 

Rote  was  filled  with  grief,  the  father,   and 


386  ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

grandfather  were  almost  heart-broken.  But  the 
mother  I  That  first  night  she  had  scarcely  closed 
an  eye,  but  continually  her  heart  was  going  up  in 
earnest  supplications  for  grace  and  strength  to 
meet  this  sore  trial  with  patienoe,  calmness,  and 
submission. 

And  surely  the  prayer  was  heard  and  an- 
swered ;  day  and  night  she  was  with  her  suffer- 
ing little  one,  watching  beside  its  crib,  or  holding 
it  in  her  arms,  soothing  it  with  tender  words  of 
mother  love,  or  singing,  in  low  sweet  tones,  of 
Jesus  and  the  happy  land. 

Plenty  of  excellent  nurses  were  at  hand,  more 
than  willing  to  relieve  her  of  her  charge  ;  but 
she  would  relinquish  it  to  no  one ;  except  when 
compelled  to  take  a  little  rest  that  her  strength 
might  not  utterly  fail  her.  Even  then  she  refused 
to  leave  the  room,  but  lay  where  the  first  plaintive 
cry,  "  Mamma,"  would  rouse  her  and  bring  her 
instantly  to  her  darling's  side. 

At  times  the  big  tears  might  be  seen  coursing 
down  her  cheek,  as  she  gazed  mournfully  upon 
the  baby  face  so  changed  from  what  it  was  ;  but 
voice  and  manner  were  quiet  and  composed. 

Her  husband  was  almost  constantly  at  her  sido, 
sharing  the  care,  the  grief  and  anxiety,  and  the 
a  urging,  so  far  as  she  would  let  him.  Eose,  too, 
and  Mr.  Dinsmore,  were  there  every  hour  of  the 
day,  and  often  in  the  night,  scarcely  less  anxious 
and  grief -stricken  than  the  parents,  and  Mr.  Dins- 


EL81B*8  WOMANHOOD.  88? 

more  especially,  trembling  for  the  life  and  health 
of  the  mother  as  well  as  the  child. 

At  length  came  a  day  when  all  knew  and 
felt  that  wee  Elsie  was  at  the  very  brink  of  the 
grave,  and  the  little  thread  of  life  might  snap 
sounder  at  any  moment. 

She  lay  on  her  pillow  on  her  mother's  lap,  the 
limbs  shrunken  to  half  their  former  size,  the  face, 
but  lately  so  beautiful  with  the  bloom  of  health, 
grown  wan  and  thin,  with  parched  lips  and  half- 
closed,  dreamy  eyes. 

Mr.  Travilla  sat  close  bear'^ihem,  with  cup 
and  spoon  in  hand,  now  and  then  moistening  the 
dry  lips.  Chloe,  who  had  stationed  herself  a  little 
behind  her  mistress  to  be  within  call,  was  dropping 
great  tears  on  the  soldier's  stocking  in  her  hand. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  came  softly  in  and  stood  by  the 
little  group,  his  features  working  with  emotion. 
"My  darling,"  he  murmured,  "my  precious 
daughter,  may  God  comfort  and  sustain  you." 

"  He  does,  papa,"  she  answered  in  low,  calm 
tones,  as  she  raised  her  head  and  lilted  her 
mournful  eyes  to  his  face  ;  "  His  consolations  are 
not  small  in  the  trying  hour." 

"  You  can  give  her  up  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  chok- 
ing voice,  looking  with  anguish  upon  the  wasted 
features  of  his  almost  idolized  grandchild. 

"  Yes,  papa — if  He  sees  fit  to  take  her  ;  'twere 
but  selfishness  to  want  to  keep  her  here,  So 
safe,  so  happy  will  she  be  in  Jesus'  arms." 


$88  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

Mr.  Travilla's  frame  shook  with  emotion^  and 
Mr.  Dinsinore  was  not  less  agitated  ;  but  the 
mother  was  still  calm  and  resigned. 

No  sound  had  come  from  those  little  lips  for 
hours  ;  hut  now  there  was  a  faintly  murmured 
"  Mamma  ! " 

"  Yes,  darling,  mamma  is  here,"  Elsie  an- 
swered, softly  pressing  a  kiss  on  the  white  brow  ; 
"  what  shall  mamma  do  for  her  baby  ?  " 

"  Jesus  love  wee  Elsie  ? "  and  the  dreamy 
eyes  unclosed  and  looked  up  into  the  sweet  pale 
face  bent  so  lovingly  over  her.  "  Elsie  so  glad. 
Mamma  sing  (  Happy  land.' n 

The  young  mother's  heart  was  like  to  burst,  but 
with  a  silent  prayer  for  strength,  she  controlled 
herself  and  sang  low  and  sweetly,  and  even  as  she 
sang  a  change  came  over  the  child,  and  it  fell 
into  a  deep,  calm,  natural  sleep  that  lasted  for 
hours  All  the  time  on  the  mother's  lap,  her  eyes 
scarce  moving  from  the  dear  little  face ;  her 
breath  almost  suspended,  lest  that  life-giving 
slumber  should  be  broken. 

In  vain  husband  and  father  in  turn  entreated 
to  be  allowed  to  relieve  her. 

"  No  ,  oh  no  ! "  she  whispered.  "  I  cannot 
have  her  disturbed  ;  it  might  cost  her  life." 

This  was  the  turning  point  in  the  disease,  and 
from  that  time  the  little  one  began  to  amend. 
But  very  weak  and  frail,  she  was  still  in  need  oi 
weeks  of  continued  tender,  careful  nursing. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  289 

"  Mamma's  lap "  was  the  place  preferred 
above  all  others :  but  patient  and  unselfish,  she 
yielded  without  a  murmur  when  united  to  the 
arms  of  papa,  grandpa,  Eose,  or  nurse,  and  told 
that  "dear  mamma  was  tired  and  needed  rest." 

Elsie  was  indeed  much  reduced  in  health  and 
strength ;  but  loye,  joy,  and  thankfulness  helped 
her  to  recuperate  rapidly, 
13 


C|apttr  Cknfu-i|irk 

"What  fates  impose,  that  men  must  ne.eda  abide 
It  boota  not  to  reeiat  both  wind  and  tide." 

— ShjLKESPSASH'S   HStfBT  VI. 

From  the  time  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  election  "ft  al- 
ter Dinsmore's  home  nad  been  made  very  uncom- 
fortable to  him  ;  after  the  fall  of  Sumter  it  was 
well-nigh  unendurable. 

Never  were  two  brothers  more  entirely  unlike 
than  he  and  Arthur  ;  the  latter,  selfish,  proud, 
haughty,  self-willed,  passionate,  and  reckless  of 
consequences  to  himself  or  others  ;  the  former 
sweet- tampered,  amiable,  and  affectionate,  but 
lacking  in  firmness  and  self-reliance. 

Poor  fellow  !  his  heart  was  divided  ;  on  the 
one  side  were  home,  parents,  friends,  and  neigh- 
bors, native  State  and  section  ;  on  the  other, 
pride  in  the  great,  powerful  Union  he  had 
hitherto  called  his  country,  love  for  the  old  flag 
as  the  emblem  of  its  greatness  and  symbol  of 
Revolutionary  glory  ;  and — perhaps  more  potent 
than  all — the  wishes  and  entreaties  of  a  Northern 
girl  who  had  won  his  heart  and  promised  him 
her  hand. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOGB*.  29 

One  April  morning  Walter,  who  had  ovoi  slept 
himself,  having  been  np  late  the  nignt  before, 
was  roused  from  his  slumbers  by  a  loud  hurrah 
coming  from  the  veranda  below.  He  recognized 
his  fathers  voice,  Arthur's,  and  that  of  one  of 
the  latter's  particular  friends,  a  hot  secessionist 
residing  in  the  adjaceut  city. 

There  seemed  a  great  tumult  in  the  house, 
running  to  and  fro,  loud  laughter,  repeated  hur- 
rahs and  voices — among  which  his  mothers  and 
Enna's  were  easily  distinguished — talking  in  high, 
excited  chorus. 

"  So  Fort  Sumter  has  fallen,  and  war  is  fairly 
inaugurated,"  he  sighed  to  himself,  as  he  rose 
and  began  to  dress.     "  It  can  mean  nothing  else." 

"  Glorious  news,  Wal  !  "  cried  Arthur,  catch- 
ing sight  of  him  as  he  descended  the  stairs  ; 
"  Fort  Sumter  has  fallen  and  Charleston  is  jubi- 
lant.    Here,  listen  while  I  read  the  despatch." 

Walter  heard  it  in  grave  silence,  and  &A  the 
close  merely  inquired  how  the  news  had  come 
so  early. 

"  Johnson  brought  it ;  has  gone  on  now  to 
Ashlands  with  it ;  says  the  city's  in  a  perfect 
furor  of  delight.  But  you,  it  seems,  care  noth- 
ing about  it,"  Arthur  concluded  with  a  malig- 
nant sneer. 

"  Not  a  word  of  rejoicing  over  this  glorious 
Tictory  " — cried  Enna  angrily. 

"  Of  seven  thousand  over  seventy-five  ?  " 


292  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

"If  I  were  papa,   I'd  turn  you  out  of  ths 

house  ; "  she  exclaimed  still  more  hotly. 

"  Walter,  I  have  no  patience  with  you,"  said  his 
father.  "  To  think  that  son  of  mine  should  turn 
against  his'own  country! "  he  added,  with  a  groan. 

"  No,  father,  I  could  never  do  that,"  Walter 
answered  with  emotion. 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  it — the  utter  indiffer- 
ence with  which  you  receive  this  glorious  news  1 n 
cried  Mrs.  Dinsmore  with  flashing  eyes.  "I'm 
positively  ashamed  of  you." 

"  No,  mother,  not  with  indifference,  far  from 
it ;  for  it  inaugurates  a  war  that  will  drench  the 
land  with  blood." 

"  Nonsense  !  the  North  will  never  fight.  A 
race  of  shop-keepers  fighting  for  a  sentiment, 
poh  !     But  come  to  breakfast,  there's  the  bell. " 

"  Better,"  says  Solomon,  ' '  is  a  dinner  of  herbs 
where  love  is,  than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  there- 
with." The  luxurious  breakfast  at  Roselands  was 
partaken  of  with  very  little  enjoyment  that  morn- 
ing ;  by  Walter  especially,  who  had  to  bear 
contempt  and  ridicule  ;  threats  also  :  he  was 
called  a  Yankee,  coward,  poltroon,  traitor,  and 
threatened  with  disinheritance  and  denounce- 
ment unless  he  would  declare  himself  for  the 
Confederacy  and  enlist  in  its  army. 

The  meal  was  but  half  over  when  he  rose  with 
Hashing  eyes,  pale  face,  and  quivering  lips.  "I 
am  neither  a   traitor  nor   a  coward  "  he  said 


ELSIE  8  WOMANHOOD  293 

between  his  clenched  teeth,  "  as  perhaps  time 
may  prove  to  the  sorrow  of  a  father  and  mother^ 
sister  and  brother,  who  can  so  use  one  who  ill 
deserves  such  treatment  at  their  hands. "  And 
turning,  he  stalked  proudly  from  the  room. 

Enna  was  beginning  a  sneering  remark,  but 
her  father  stopped  her. 

"  Hush  !  we  have  been  too  hard  on  the  lad  ; 
he  was  always  slower  than  Art  about  making  up 
his  mind,  and  Fve  no  doubt  will  turn  out  all 
right  in  the  end." 

Soon  after  breakfast  the  father  and  mother 
had  a  private  talk  on  the  subject,  and  agreed  to 
try  coaxing  and  entreaties. 

"  Wal  always  had  a  warm  heart,"  remarked 
Mr.  Dinsmore  finally,  "  and  I  dare  say  can  be 
reached  more  readily  through  that." 

"  Yes,  he  was  your  favorite  always,  while  you 
have  been  very  hard  upon  poor  Arthur's  youthful 
follies  ;  but  you  see  now  which  is  the  more  worthy 
of  the  two." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head.  "Not  yet, 
wife  ;  'tisn't  always  the  braggart  that  turns  out 
bravest  in  time  of  trial." 

"  Yes,  we  shall  see,"  she  answered,  with  a  slight 
toss  of  her  haughty  head.  "  I  trust  no  son  of 
mine  will  prove  himself  so  cowardly  as  to  run  away 
from  his  country  in  her  time  of  need,  on  whatevei 
pretext." 

Acd  having  winged  this   shaft,   perceiving 


294  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

with  pleasure  that  her  husband  winced  slightly 
tinder  it,  she  sailed  from  the  room,  ascending  the 
stairway,  and  presently  paused  before  the  door  of 
Walter's  dressing-room.  It  was  slightly  ajar; 
and  pushing  it  gently  open  she  entered  without 
knocking. 

He  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel,  his  tali 
erect  figure,  the  perfection  of  manly  grace,  his 
eyes  fixed  thoughtful  ly  upon  the  carpet,  and  hi8 
fine,  open,  expressive  countenance  full  of  a  noble 
sadness. 

There  was  something  of  motherly  pride  in 
the  glance  that  met  his  as  he  looked  up  at  the 
sound  of  Mrs.  Dinsm ore's  step.  Starting  forward, 
he  gallantly  handed  her  to  a  seat  :  then  stood 
respectfully  waiting  for  what  she  had  to  say. 

"  Walter,  ray  dear  boy,"  she  began  ;  "  your 
father  and  I  think  we  were  all  a  trifle  hard  on 
you  this  morning." 

He  colored  slightly  but  made  no  remark,  and 
she  went  on.  "  Of  course  we  can't  believe  it 
possible  that  a  son  of  ours  will  ever  show  himself 
a  coward  ;  but  it  is  very  trying  to  us,  very  morti- 
fying, to  have  you  holding  back  in  this  way  till 
all  our  neighbors  and  friends  begin  to  hint  that 
you  are  disloyal  to  your  native  State,  and  look 
scornful  and  contemptuous  at  the  very  mention 
of  your  name. " 

Walter  took  a  turn  or  two  across  the  room, 
and  coming  back  to  her  side,  "  Mother,"  said  he, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  29| 

M  you  know  it  is  my  nature  to  be  slow  in  deciding 
any  matter  of  importance,  and  this  is  the  weighs 
iest  one  that  ever  I  had  to  consider.  Men  nraeh 
older  and  wiser  than  I  are  finding  it  a  knotty 
question  to  which  their  loyalty  is  due,  State  or 
General  Government ;  where  allegiance  to  the 
one  ends,  and  fealty  to  the  other  begins." 

"  There  is  no  question  in  my  mind,"  she  inter- 
rupted, angrily.  "  Of  course  your  allegiance  is 
due  to  your  State  ;  so  don't  let  me  hear  any  more 
about  that.  Your  father  and  brother  never 
hesitated  for  a  moment ;  and  it  would  become 
you  to  be  more  ready  to  be  guided  by  them." 

"Mother,"  he  said,  with  a  pained  look,  "you 
forget  that  I  am  no  longer  a  boy  ;  and  you  would 
De  the  first  to  despise  a  man  who  could  not  form 
an  opinion  of  his  own.  All  I  ask  is  time  to 
decide  this  question  and — another." 

"  Pray  what  may  that  be  ?  whether  you  will 
break  with  Miss  Aller,  I  presume,"  she  retorted, 
sneeringly. 

"  No,  mother,"  he  answered  with  dignity ; 
u  there  is  no  question  in  my  mind  in  regard  to 
that.  Mary  and  I  are  pledged  to  each  other,  and 
nothing  but  death  can  part  us." 

"And"  (fiercely)  "you  would  marry  her5 
though  she  is  ready  to  cheer  on  the  men  who  are 
coming  to  invade  our  homes  and  inv  olvo  us  in 
the  horrors  of  a  servile  insurrection  !  " 

"  I  think  it  is  hardly  an  hour  since  I  heard 


896  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

you  saj  the  North  would  not  fight ;  and  since 
we  have  shown  our  determination  in  capturing 
Sumter,  the  next  news  would  be  that  we  were 
to  be  allowed  to  go  in  peace.  You  may  be  right ; 
I  hope  you  are ;  but  the  fellows  I  know  in  the 
North  are  as  full  of  pluck  as  ourselves,  and  I 
fear  there  is  a  long,  fierce,  bloody  struggle  before 
us."  He  stood  before  her  with  folded  arms  and 
grave,  earnest  face,  his  eyes  meeting  hers  un- 
flinchingly. "And  ere  I  rush  into  it  I  want  to 
know  that  I  am  ready  for  death  and  for  judg- 
ment." 

"  No  need  to  hesitate  on  that  account,"  she 
said,  with  a  contemptuous  smile  ;  "  you've  always 
been  a  remarkably  upright  young  man,  and  I'm 
sure  are  safe  enough.  Besides,  I  haven't  a  doubt 
that  those  who  die  in  defence  of  their  country 
go  straight  to  heaven." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  been  studying 
the  Bible  a  good  deal  of  late,  and  I  know  that 
that  would  never  save  my  soul. " 

"  This  is  some  of  Horace's  and  Elsie's  work ; 
I  wish  they  would  attend  to  their  own  affairs  and 
let  you  and  others  alone. "  And  she  rose  and 
swept  angrily  from  the  room. 

Walter  did  not  appear  at  dinner,  nor  was  he 
eeen  again  for  several  days  ;  but  as  such  absences 
were  not  infrequent — he  having  undertaken  a 
sort  of  general  oversight  of  both  the  Oaks  and 
Ion — thii  excited  no  alarm. 


SL8IE'8  WOMAMBOOD.  %$*( 

The  first  day  in  fact  was  spent  at  Ion  ;  the 
next  he  rode  oyer  to  the  Oaks.  Mrs.  Murray 
always  made  him  very  comfortable,  and  was 
delighted  to  haye  the  opportunity  ;  for  the  place 
was  lonelj  for  her  in  the  absence  of  the  family. 
She  was  on  the  yeranda  as  he  rode  up  that  morn- 
ing attended  by  his  seryant. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Walter/'  she  cried,  "'but  I'm  glad 
to  see  you  !  You're  a  sight  for  sair  een,  sir.  I 
hope  ye'ye  come  to  stay  a  bit." 

He  had  giyen  the  reins  to  his  seryant  and 
dismounted.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  with 
her,  "for  two  or  three  days,  Mrs.  Murray." 

"  That's  gude  news,  sir.  Will  ye  come  in 
and  take  a  bite  or  sup  o'  something  ? " 

"  Thank  you,  not  now.  I'll  just  sit  here  for 
a  moment.     The  air  is  delightful  this  morning." 

"So  it  is,  sir.  And  do  ye  bring  on y" news 
frae  our  friends  in  Naples  r " 

"  No  ;  I  haye  heard  nothing  since  I  saw  you 
last." 

"But  what's  this,  Mi.  Walter,  that  I  heai 
the  servants  saying  aboot  a  fight  wi'  the  United 
States  troops  ?  " 

"Fort  Sumter  has  fallen,  Mrs.  Murray. 
There's  an  account  of  the  whole  affair,"  he  added, 
taking  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket  and  handing 
it  to  her. 

She  receiyed  it  eagerly,  and  with  a  heart? 
thanks. 

13* 


$98  ELBIE'B  WOMANHOOD 

"lam  going  out  into  the  grounds,"  he  said 
and  walked  away,  leaving  her  to  its  persual. 

He  strolled  down  a  green  alley,  inspected  it, 
the  lawns,  the  avenue,  the  flower  and  vegetable 
gardens,  to  see  that  all  were  in  order ;  held  a  few 
minutes'  conversation  with  the  head  gardener, 
making  some  suggestions  and  bestowing  deserved 
praise  of  his  faithful  performance  of  his  duties ; 
then  wandering  on,  at  length  seated  himself  in 
Elsie's  bower,  and  took  from  Ms  breast-pocket — 
where  he  had  constantly  carried  it  of  late — a 
email  morocco-bound,  gilt-edged  volume. 

He  sat  there  a  long  time,  reading  and  ponder- 
ing with  grave,  anxious  face,  it  may  be  asking  for 
heavenly  guidance  too,  for  his  eyes  were  now  and 
then  uplifted  and  his  lips  moved. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  he  spent  at  the 
Oaks,  passing  most  of  his  time  in  solitude,  either 
m  the  least  frequented  parts  of  the  grounds,  or 
the  lonely  and  deserted  rooms  of  the  mansion. 

Walter  had  always  been  a  favorite  with  Mrs. 
Murray.  She  had  a  sort  of  motherly  affection 
for  him,  and  watching  him  furtively,  felt  sure 
that  he  had  some  heavy  mental  trouble.  She 
waited  and  watched  silently,  hoping  that  he 
would  confide  in  her  and  let  her  sympathize,  if 
she  could  do  nothing  more. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  he  came  in 
from  the  grounds  with  a  brightened  countenance. 
his  little   book   in   his  hand-     She  was   on  xae 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  39$ 

veranda  looking  out  for  him  to  ask  if  he  was 
ready  for  his  tea.     He  met  her  with  a  smile. 

"  Is  it  glide  news,  Mr.  Walter  ?  *  she  asked, 
thinking  of  the  distracted  state  of  the  country. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Murray,  I  think  you  will  call  it 
so,  I  have  been  searching  here,"  and  he  held  up 
the  little  volume,  "  for  the  pearl  of  great  price  ; 
and  I  have  found  it. " 

"Dear  bairn,  I  thank  God  for  ye!"  she 
exclaimed  with  emotion.  "It's  gude  news 
indeed!" 

"  I  cannot  think  how  I've  been  so  blind,"  he 
went  on  in  earnest  tones  ;  "it  seems  now  so  sim- 
ple and  easy — just  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ, 
receive  his  offered  pardon,  his  righteousness  put 
npon  me,  the  cleansing  of  hi3  blood  shed  for  the 
remission  of  sins,  and  trust  my  all  to  Him  for 
time  and  eternity,  Now  I  am  ready  to  meet 
death  on  the  battle-field,  if  so  it  must  be." 

"  But,  0  Mr.  Walter,  I  hope  you'll  be  spared 
that,  and  live  to  be  a  good  soldier  of  Christ  these 
many  years." 

They  were  startled  by  the  furious  galloping  of 
a  horse  coming  up  the  drive  ;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment Arthur  drew  rein  before  the  door, 

"  Walter  ;  so  vou're  here,  as  I  thought !  I've 
come  for  you.  Lincoln  has  called  for  seventy- 
five  thousand  troops  to  defend  the  capital ;  but 
we  all  know  what  that  means — an  invasion  of  the 
South,     The  North's  a  unit  now,  and  so  is  the 


BOO  JSLSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

South.  Davis  has  called  for  volunteers,  and  the 
war-cry  is  resounding  all  over  the  land.  We're 
raising  a  company  :  I'm  appointed  captain,  and 
you  lieutenant.  Come  ;  if  you  hesitate  now— 
you'll  repent  it :  father  says  he'll  disown  you 
forever." 

Arthur's  utterance  was  fierce  and  rapid,  but 
now  he  was  compelled  to  pause  for  breath,  and 
Walter  answered  with  excitement  in  his  tones 
also. 

"  Of  course  if  it  has  come  to  that,  I  will  not 
hesitate  to  defend  my  native  soil,  my  home,  my 
parents." 

"  All  right ;  come  on  then ;  we  leave  to- 
night." 

Walter's  horse  was  ordered  at  once,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  brothers  were  galloping  away 
side  by  side. 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  after  them  with  a  sigh. 

"  Ah  me  !  the  poor  laddies  !  will  they  die  on 
the  battle-field  ?  Ah,  wae's  me,  but  war's  an 
awfu'  thing ! " 

At  Eoselands  all  was  bustle  and  excitement, 
every  one  eager,  as  it  seemed,  to  hasten  the  depar- 
ture of  the  young  men. 

But  when  everything  was  ready  and  the  final 
adieus  must  be  spoken,  the  mother  embraced  them 
with  tears  and  sobs,  and  even  Enna's  voice  fal- 
tered and  her  eyes  grew  moist. 

Mounting,  they  rode  rapidly  down  the  avenue- 


ELSIE'S  WOMAXEOOU,  301 

each  followed  by  his  own  servant— and  out  %t  the 
great  gate,  Walter  wheeled  his  horse.  'One 
last  look  at  the  old  home,  Art,"  he  said ;  "wo 
say  never  see  it  again." 

"  Always  sentimental,  "Wal,"  laughed  Arthur. 
somewhat  scornfully;  "but  have  your  way,5J 
And  he,  too,  wheeled  about  for  a  last  farewell 
look. 

The  moon  had  just  risen,  and  by  her  silvery 
light  the  lordly  mansion — with  its  clustering 
vines,  the  gardens,  the  lawn,  the  shrubbery,  and 
the  grand  old  trees— was  distinctly  visible.  Never 
had  the  place  looked  more  lovely.  The  evening 
breeze  brought  to  their  nostrils  the  delicious  scent 
of  roses  in  full  bloom,  and  a  nightingale  poured 
forth  a  song  of  ravishing  sweetness  from  a  thicket 
hard  by. 

Somehow  her  song  seemed  to  go  to  Walter's 
very  heart  and  a  sad  foreboding  oppressed  him  as 
they  gazed  and  listened  for  several  moments. 
then  turned  their  horses'  heads  and  galloped  dowu 
the  road. 


€\tykx  f  taijr-faudjj. 

•*  Is't  death  to  fall  for  Freedom's  right  T 
He's  dead  alone  who  lacks  her  light" 

— Caxfexxa, 

Wee  Elsie  was  convalescing  rapidly,  and  the 
hearts  so  wrung  with  anguish  at  sight  of  her  suf- 
ferings and  the  fear  of  losing  her,  relieved  from 
that,  were  again  filled  with  the  intense  anxiety 
for  their  country,  which  for  a  short  space  had 
been  half  forgotten  in  the  severity  of  the  trial 
apparently  so  close  at  hand. 

Mails  from  America  came  irregularly ;  now 
and  then  letters  and  papers  from  Philadelphia, 
New  York,  and  other  parts  of  the  North  ;  very 
seldom  anything  from  the  South. 

What  was  going  on  in  their  homes  ?  what 
were  their  dear  relatives  and  friends  doing  and 
enduring  ?  were  questions  they  were  often  asking 
of  themselves  or  each  other — questions  answered 
by  a  sigh  only,  or  a  shake  of  the  head.  The  sus- 
pense was  hard  to  bear  ;  but  who  of  all  Ameri- 
cans, at  home  or  abroad,  who  loved  their  native 
land,  were  not  suffering  at  this  time  from  anx- 
iety a^.d  suspense  ? 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  303 

"  A  vessel  came  in  last  night,  which  I  hope 
has  a  mail  for  us,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore  aa 
they  sat  down  to  the  breaidast  table  one  morning 
early  in  November.  "  I  .aave  sent  Uncle  Joe  to 
find  ont ;  and  bring  it,  if  there." 

"  Ah,  if  it  should  bring  the  glorious  news 
that  this  dreadful  war  is  over,  and  all  our  dear 
ones  safe  !  "  sighed  Eose. 

"  Ah,  no  hope  of  that,'  returned  her  husband. 
"I  think  all  are  well-nigh  convinced  now  that  it 
will  last  for  years  :  the  enlistments  now,  you 
remember,  are  for  three  years  or  the  war." 

Uncle  Joe's  errand  was  not  done  very  speedily, 
and  on  his  return  he  found  the  family  collected 
in  the  drawing-room. 

"  Good  luck  dis  time,  massa,"  he  said, 
addressing  Mr.  Dinsmore,  as  he  handed  Mm  the 
mail  bag,  "lots  ob  papahs  an'  lettahs." 

Eagerly  the  others  gathered  about  the  head 
of  the  household.  Kose  and  Elsie,  pale  and  trem- 
bling with  excitement  and  apprehension,  Mr. 
Travilla,  grave  and  quiet,  yet  inwardly  impatient 
of  a  moment's  delay. 

It  was  just  the  same  with  Mr.  Dinsmore  ;  in  a 
trice  he  had  unlocked  the  bag  and  emptied  its  con- 
tents — magazines,  papers,  letters — upon  a  table. 

Rose's  eye  fell  upon  a  letter,  deeply  edged 
with  black,  which  bore  her  name  and  address  in 
May's  handwriting.  She  snatched  it  up  with  a 
sharp  cry,  and  sank,  half-fainting,  into  a  chair 


304:  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

Hei  husband  and  Elsie  were  instantly  afc  hei 
side.  "  Dear  wife,  my  love,  my  darling  !  this  if 
terrible  ;  but  the  Lord  will  sustain  you." 

"  Mamma,  dearest  mamma  ;  oh  that  I  could 
comfort  you  !  " 

Mr.  Travilla  brought  a  glass  of  water. 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  am  better  now  ;  I  can  beai 
it,"  she  murmured  faintly,  la;rng  her  head  on  hei 
husband's  shoulder.     "  Open — read — tell  me." 

Elsie,  in  compliance  with  a  sign  from  hei 
father,  opened  the  envelope  and  handed  him 
the  letter. 

Glancing  over  it,  he  read  in  low,  moved  tones. 

"  Eose,  Rose,  how  shall  I  tell  it  ?  Freddie  is 
dead,  and  Ritchie  sorely  wounded — both  in  that 
dreadful,  dreadful  battle  at  Ball's  Bluff ;  both 
shot  while  trying  to  swim  the  river.  Freddie 
killed  instantly  by  a  bullet  in  his  brain,  but 
Ritchie  swam  to  shore,  dragging  Fred's  body  with 
him  ;  then  fainted  from  fatigue,  pain,  and  losa 
of  blood. 

"  Mamma  is  heart-broken — indeed  we  all  arw 
—and  papa  seems  to  have  suddenly  grown  many 
years  older.  Oh,  we  don't  know  how  to  bear  it ! 
and  yet  we  are  proud  of  our  brave  boys.  Ed- 
ward went  on  at  once,  when  the  sad  news  reached 
us;  brought  Ritchie  home  to  be  nursed,  and — 
and  Freddie's  body  to  be  buried.  Oh  !  what  a 
heart-breaking  scene  it  was  when  they  arrived  I 


r  MLSIE'8  WOMANHOOD,  30§ 

"  Harold,  poor  Harold,  couldn't  come  home ; 
they  wouldn't  give  him  a  furlough  eyen  for  a  day, 
Edward  went,  the  day  after  the  funeral,  and 
enlisted,  and  Eitcbie  will  go  back  as  soon  as  hia 
wound  heals.  He  says  that  while  our  men  stood 
crowded  together  on  the  river  bank,  below  the 
bluff,  where  they  could  neither  fight  nor  retreat, 
and  the  enemy  were  pouring  their  shot  into  them 
from  the  heights,  Fred  came  to  him,  and  grasp- 
ing his  hand  said,  'Dear  Dick,  if  a  not  likely 
either  of  us  will  come  out  of  this  alive  ;  but  if 
you  do  and  I  don't,  tell  mother  and  the  rest  not 
to  grieve  ;  for  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed.3 
Bemember,  dear  Eoee,  this  sweet  message  is  fos 
you  as  well  as  for  us. 

"  Your  loving  sister, 

"May  Alu30S".w 

Eose,  who  had  been  clinging  about  her  hus- 
band's neck  and  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder, 
vainly  striving  to  suppress  her  sobs  during  the 
reading,  now  burst  into  a  fit  of  hysterical 
weeping. 

"Oh  Freddie,  Freddie,  my  little  brother ! 
my  darling  brother,  how  can  I  bear  to  think  I 
shall  never,  never  see  you  again  in  this  world  I 
Oh  Horace,  he  was  always  so  bright  and  sweet3 
the  very  sunshine  of  the  house." 

"  Yes,  dearest,  but  remember  his  dying  mes- 
sage ;  think  of  his  perfect  happiness  now.     He 


806  SLBIB'8  WOMANHOOD. 

is  free  from  all  sin  and  sorrow,  done  with  tne 
weary  marchings  and  fightings,  the  hunger  and 
thirst,  cold  and  heat  and  fatigue  of  war ;  no 
longer  in  danger  from  shot  or  bursting  shell,  or 
of  lying  wounded  and  suffering  on  the  battle- 
field, or  languishing  in  hospital  or  prison." 

"  Yes,"  she  sighed,  "  1  should  rather  mourn 
for  poor  wounded  Eitchie,  for  Harold  and 
Edward,  still  exposed  to  all  the  horrors  of  war. 
Oh,  when  will  it  end  ? — this  dreadful,  dreadful 
war  ! " 

All  were  weeping;  for  all  had  known  and 
loyed  the  bright,  frank,  noble-hearted,  genial 
young  man. 

But  Eose  presently  became  more  composed, 
and  Mr.  Travilla  proceeded  with  the  distribution 
of  the  remaining  letters. 

"  From  Adelaide,  doubtless,  and  I  presume 
containing  the  same  sad  news,"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
said,  breaking  the  seal  of  another  black-edged 
epistle,  directed  to  him.  "Yes,  and  more,"  he 
added,  with  a  groan,  as  he  ran  his  eye  down  the 
page.  "  Dick  Percival  was  killed  in  a  skirmish 
last  May  ;  and  Enna  is  a  widow.  Poor  fellow,  1 
fear  he  was  ill  prepared  to  go." 

Mr.  Travilla  had  taken  up  a  newspaper. 
"Here  is  an  account  of  that  Ball's  Bluff  affair, 
which  seems  to  have  been  very  badly  managed 
on  the  part  of  the  Federals.  Shall  1  read  fo 
aloud  ? " 


ELBIK'8  WOMANHOOD  SOf 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  if  yon  please,"  sobbed  Rose  ; 
"let  us  know  all." 

"  Badly  managed,  indeed,"  was  Mr.  Dins- 
more's  comment  at  the  conclnsion,  "  it  looks  very 
like  the  work  of  treason." 

"And  my  two  dear  brothers  were  part  ol 
the  dreadful  sacrifice,"  moaned  Rose. 

"  But  oh !  how  brave,  noble,  and  unselfish 
they,  and  many  others,  showed  themselves  i^ 
that  awful  hour,"  said  Elsie  amid  her  sobs  and 
tears.  "  Dear  mamma,  doesn't  that  comfort  you 
a  little  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear  child.  Freddie's  sweet  message 
still  more.     Oh,  I  need  not  mourn  for  him  I  * 


Cjppttr  Ckrrfj-fifiJ. 


M  Liberty  !   Freedom !  tyranny  is  dead  ! 
—Bui  aence,  proclaim,  cry  it  about  the  streets," 

— Shaekspsam's  Julius  Cssab. 

Thb  winter  of  1861-62  wore  wearily  away, 
the  Great  Republic  still  convulsed  with  all  the 
horrors  of  the  civil  war  ;  and  the  opening  spring 
witnessed  no  abatement  of  the  fearful  strife. 

During  all  these  months  nothing  unusual  had 
occurred  in  the  family  of  our  friends  at  Naples  ; 
but  one  lovely  morning  in  April  a  sweet  floweret 
blossomed  among  them  ;  bringing  joy  and  glad- 
ness to  all  hearts. 

"  Our  little  violet, "  Elsie  3aid,  smiling  up  at 
the  happy  face  of  her  husband,  as  he  bent  over 
her  and  the  babe.  "  She  has  come  to  us  just  as 
her  namesakes  in  America  are  lifting  their  pretty 
heads  among  the  grass." 

"  Thank  you,  darling,"  he  answered,  softly 
touching  his  lips  to  her  cheek ;  "  yes,  we  will 
give  her  my  mother's  name,  and  may  she  inherit 
her  lovely  disposition  also." 


JBLBIB  8  WOMANHOOD.  UW 

"  I  should  be  so  glad,  dear  mothers  was  as 
lovely  a  character  as  I  ever  knew." 

"  Our  responsibilities  are  growing,  love  i 
'three  precious  little  ones  now  to  train  up  for  use- 
fulness here  and  glory  hereafter. " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  grave  yet  happy  face  ; 
"  and  who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?  " 

"  Our  sufficiency  is  of  God  ! " 

"  And  he  has  promised  wisdom  to  those  who 
efik  it  What  a  comfort.  I  should  like  to  show 
this  pretty  one  to  Walter.  Where  is  he  now,  I 
wonder,  poor  fellow  ?  " 

Ah,  though  she  knew  it  not,  he  was  then  lying 
cold  in  death  upon  the  bloody  field  of  Shiloh. 

There  had  been  news  now  and  then  from 
their  Northern  friends  and  relatives.  Kichard 
Allison  had  recovered  from  his  wound,  and 
was  again  in  the  field.  Edward  was  with  the 
army  also ;  Harold,  too,  and  Philip  Eoss. 

Lucy  was,  like  many  others  who  had  strong 
ties  in  both  sections  and  their  armies,  weli-nigh 
distracted  with  grief  and  fear. 

From  their  relatives  in  the  South  the  last 
news  received  had  been  that  of  the  death  of  Dick 
Percival,  nor  did  any  further  news  reach  there 
until  the  next  November.  Then  they  heard  that 
Enna  had  been  married  again  to  another  Confed- 
erate officer,  about  a  year  after  her  first  husband's 
death;  that  Walter  had  fallen  at  Shiloh,  that 
Arthur  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  Iuka>  and  thai 


310  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

his  mother,  hearing  of  it  just  as  she  was  con^ 
valescing  from  an  attack  of  fever,  had  a  relapse 
and  died  a  few  days  after. 

Great  was  the  grief  of  all  for  Walter  ;  Mr, 
Dinsmore  mourned  very  much  for  his  father  also, 
left  thus  almost  alone  in  his  declining  years. 
No  particulars  were  given  in  regard  to  tho  deaths 
of  the  two  young  men. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Elsie,  as  she  wept  over  Walter's 
loss,  "what  would  I  not  give  to  know  that  he 
was  ready  for  death  !  But  surelv  we  may  rejoice  in 
the  hope  that  ho  was  ;  since  we  nave  offered  so 
much  united  prayer  for  him." 

"  Yes,"  returned  her  father,  "  for  'If  two  of 
you  shall  agree  on  earth,  as  touching  anything 
that  they  shall  ask,  it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my 
Father  which  is  in  heaven '  ;  and  God's  promises 
are  all  'yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus.'" 

"  Papa,"  said  Horace,  "  how  can  it  be  that 
good  Christian  men  are  fighting  and  killing 
each  other  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  very  strange  thing,  my  son  ;  yet  un- 
doubtedly true  that  there  are  many  true  Chris- 
tians on  both  sides.  They  do  not  see  alike,  and 
each  is  defending  what  he  believes  a  righteous 
sause." 

**  Listen  all,"  said  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  who  was 
reading  a  letter  from  Daisy,  her  youngest  sister. 

*'  Richard  is  ill  in  the  hospital  at  Washington, 
and  May  has  gone  on  to  nurse  him.     Dr.  King, 


ELSIE  8  WOMANHOOD,  811 

of  Lansdale,  Ohio,  is  there  acting  as  volunteer 
surgeon,  and  ha3  Lottie  with  him.  She  will  be 
company  for  our  May.  Don't  worry  about 
Ritchie ;  May  writes  that  he  is  getting  better 
last" 

Rose  smiled  as  she  read  the  last  sentence. 

"  What  is  it,  mamma  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  Nothing  much ;  only  I  was  thinking  how 
greatly  Ritchie  seemed  to  admire  Miss  King  at 
the  time  of  the  wedding." 

"  Well,  if  he  loses  his  heart  I  hope  ne  will  get 
another  in  exchange." 

"  Why,  Sister  Elsie,  how  could  Uncle  Ritchie 
lose  his  heart  ?  did  they  shoot  a  hole  so  it  might 
drop  out  ?  "  queried  Rosebud  in  wide-eyed  wonder. 
"  I  hope  the  doctors  will  sew  up  the  place  quick 
'fore  it  does  fall  out,"  she  added,  with  a  look  of 
deep  concern.  "  Poor,  dear  Uncle  Wal  is  killed," 
she  sobbed ;  "  and  Uncle  Art  too,  and  I  don't 
want  all  my  uncles  to  die  or  to  be  killed." 

"  We  will  ask  G-od  to  take  care  of  them,  dear 
daughter,"  said  Rose,  caressing  the  little  weeper, 
"  and  we  know  that  he  is  able  to  do  it." 

One  day  in  the  following  January — 1863 — the 
gentlemen  went  into  the  city  for  a  few  hours, 
leaving  their  wives  and  children  at  home.  They 
returned  with  faces  full  of  excitement 

"What  news?"  queried  both  ladies  in  s 
breath. 


$12  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

"  Lincoln  has  issued  an  Emancipation  Proc- 
lamation freeing  all  the  blacks." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause  :  then  Hose 
said,  "  If  it  puts  an  end  to  this  dreadful  war,  I 
shall  not  be  sorry." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Elsie. 

"Perhaps  yon  don't  reflect  that  it  takes  a 
good  deal  out  of  our  pockets,"  remarked  heT 
father.    ' '  Several  hundred  thousand  from  yours." 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  know  ;  but  we  will  not  be  very 
poor.  I  alone  have  enough  left  to  keep  us  all 
comfortably.  If  I  were  only  sure  it  would  add 
to  the  happiness  of  my  poor  people,  I  should 
rejoice  over  it.  But  I  am  sorely  troubled  to  know 
what  has,  or  will  become  of  them.  It  is  more 
than  two  years  now,  since  we  have  heard  a  word 
from  Viamede." 

"  It  is  very  likely  we  shall  find  nothing  but 
ruins  on  all  our  plantations — Viamede,  the  Oaks, 
Ion,  and  Roselands,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
pacing  to  and  fro  with  an  anxious  and  disturbed 
countenance. 

"Let  us  hope  for  the  best,"  Mr.  Travilla 
responded  cheerfully ;  "  the  land  will  still  be 
there,  perhaps  the  houses  too  ;  the  negroes  will 
work  for  wages,  and  gradually  we  may  be  able  to 
restore  our  homes  to  what  they  were." 

"  And  if  the  war  stops  now,  we  shall  probably 
find  them  still  in  pretty  good  condition,"  said 
Elsie, 


ELSIE" 8  WOMANHOOD,  313 

**  No,"  her  father  said,  "  the  war  is  not  at  an 
and,  or  likely  to  be  for  a  long  time  to  come  ;  but 
we  will  wait  in  patience  and  hope,  daughter,  and 
not  grieve  oyer  losses  that  perhaps  may  bring 
great  happiness  to  others." 

"  Are  we  poor  now,  papa  ? "  asked  Horace 
anxiously. 

"  No,  son  ^  your  sister  is  still  very  wealthy, 
and  we  all  haye  comfortable  incomes." 

"It  did  me  good  to  see  Uncle  Joe's  delight 
oyer  the  news,"  Mr.  Trayilla  smilingly  remarked 
to  his  wife. 

"  Ah,  you  told  him  then  ? "  she  returned, 
with  a  keen  interest  and  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  and  it  threw  him  into  a  transport 
of  joy.  'Ki!  massa,'  he  said,  'neber  tink  to 
heyah  sich  news  as  dat  1  neber  spects  dis  chile 
lib  to  see  freedom  come  ; '  then  sobering  down, 
'  but,  massa,  we's  been  a  prayin'  for  it ;  we's 
been  crying  to  the  good  Lord  like  the  chillen  ob 
Israel  when  dey's  in  de  house  ob  bondage  ;  tou- 
sands  an'  tousands  ob  us  cry  day  an'  night,  an'  de 
Lord  heyah,  an'  now  de  answer  hab  come.  Bress 
de  Lord  !    Bress  his  holy  name  foreber  an'  eber.' 

" '  And  what  will  you  do  with  your  liberty, 
Uncle  Joe  ? '  I  asked ;  then  he  looked  half- 
frightened.  '  Massa,  you  ain't  gwine  to  send  us 
off  ?  we  lub  you  an'  Miss  Elsie  an'  de  chillen, 
an'  we's  gettin'  mos'  too  ole  to  start  out  new  to! 
ourselves.' " 
14 


S14  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Well,  dear,  I  hope  you  assured  him  that  he 
had  nothing  to  fear  on  that  score." 

"  Certainly  ;  I  told  him  they  were  free  to  go 
or  stay  as  they  liked,  and  as  long  as  they  were 
with,  or  near  us,  we  would  see  that  they  were 
made  comfortable.  Then  he  repeated,  with  great 
earnestness,  that  he  loved  us  all,  and  could  neve? 
forget  what  you  had  done  in  restoring  him  to  his 
wife,  and  making  them  both  so  comf 01  table  and 
happy." 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  have  been  happy  with  us  s 
and  probably  it  was  the  bitter  remembrance  of 
the  sufferings  of  his  earlier  life  that  made  free- 
dom seem  so  precious  a  boon  to  him." 

Going  into  the  nursery  half  an  hour  later, 
Elsie  was  grieved  and  surprised  to  find  Ohloe  sit- 
ting by  the  crib  of  the  sleeping  babe,  crying  and 
sobbing  as  if  her  very  heart  would  break,  her 
head  bowed  upon  her  knees,  and  the  sobs  half- 
smothered,  lest  they  should  disturb  the  child. 

"  Why,  mammy  dear,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 
ehe  asked,  going  to  her  and  laying  a  hand  tenderly 
on  her  shoulder. 

Chloe  slid  to  her  knees,  and  taking  the  soft 
white  hand  in  both  of  hers,  covered  it  with  kisses 
and  tears,  while  her  whole  frame  shook  with  her 
bitter  weeping. 

"  Mammy,  dear  mammy,  what  is  it  ?  "  Elsie 
asked  in  real  alarm,  quite  forgetting  for  the  mo- 
ment the  news  of  the  morning,  which  indeed 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  316 

&-»  o.ould  never  have  expected  to  cause  such 
dinress. 

"  Dis  chile  don't  want  no  freedom, *  sobbed 
che  poor  eld  creature  at  length,  "she  lubs  to 
blong  to  her  darlin'  young  missi3  :  Uncle  Joe 
he  sing  an'  jump  an'  praise  de  Lord,  'cause  free- 
dom come,  but  your  ole  mammy  don't  want  no 
freedom ;  she  can't  go  for  to  leave  you,  Miss 
Elsie,  her  bressed  darlin'  chile  dat  she  been  done 
take  care  ob  ever  since  she  bom." 

"Mammy  dear,  you  shall  never  leave  me 
except  of  your  own  free  will,"  Elsie  answered,  in 
tender  soothing  tones.  "'Come,  get  up,  and 
don't  cry  any  more.  Why,  it  would  come  as 
near  breaking  my  heart  as  yours,  if  we  had  to 
part.  Ys7hat  could  I  or  my  babies  ever  do  with- 
out our  old  mammy  to  look  after  our  comfort !  " 

"  Bress  your  heart,  honey,  you'se  alius  good 
an'  kind  to  your  ole  mammy,"  Chloe  said,  check- 
ing her  sobs  and  wiping  away  her  tears,  as  she 
slowly  rose  to  her  feet ;  "de  Lord  bress  you  an' 
keep  you.  Now  let  your  mammy  gib  you  one 
good  hug,  like  when  you  little  chile." 

"  And  many  times  since,"  said  Elsie,  smiling 
sweetly  into  the  tear-swollen  eyes  of  her  faithful 
old  nurse,  and  not  only  submitting  to,  but  return- 
ing the  embrace. 


<%pttT  &fotti%-SKf|. 

u  And  faint  not,  heart  of  man  1  though  years  wane  slow ! 
There  have  heen  those  that  from  the  deepest  cavea, 
And  cells  of  night  and  fastnesses  helow 
The  stormy  dashing  of  the  ocean  waves, 
Down,  farther  down  than  gold  lies  hid,  have  nnre'd 
A  quenchless  hope,  and  watch'd  their  time  and  bnnst 
On  the  bright  day  like  wakeners  from  the  grave  " 

—Mrs.  HsvAjra. 

Nook  of  a  sultry  July  day,  1864  ;  the  scorch- 
ing  sun  looks  down  upon  a  pine  forest ;  in  it* 
midst  a  cleared  space  some  thirty  acres  in  extent, 
surrounded  by  a  log  stockade  ten  feet  high,  the 
timbers  set  three  feet  deep  into  the  ground  ;  a 
star  fort,  with  one  gun  at  each  corner  of  the 
square  enclosure  ;  on  top  of  the  stockade  sentinel 
boxes  placed  twenty  feet  apart,  reached  by  steps 
from  the  outside  ;  in  each  of  these  a  vigilant 
guard  with  loaded  musket,  constantly  on  the 
watch  for  the  slightest  pretext  for  shooting  down 
some  one  or  more  of  the  prisoners,  of  whom  there 
are  from  twenty-five  thousand  to  thirty  thousand. 

All  along  the  inner  side  of  the  wall,  six  feet 
from  it,  stretches  a  dead  line  ;  and  any  poor  fel- 
low thoughtlessly  or  accidentally  laying  a  hand 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  81? 

upon  it,  or  allowing  any  part  of  his  body  to  reach 
under  or  oyer  it,  will  be  instantly  shot. 

A  green ,  slimy,  sluggish  stream,  bringing  with 
it  all  the  filth  of  the  sewers  of  Anderson ville,  a 
tillage  three  miles  distant,  flows  directly  across 
the  enclosure  from  east  to  west.  Formerly,  the 
only  water  fit  to  drink  came  from  a  spring  be- 
yond the  eastern  wall,  which  flowing  under  it, 
into  the  enclosure,  emptied  itself  into  the  other 
stream,  a  few  feet  within  the  dead  line. 

It  did  not  suffice  to  satisfy  the  thirst  of  the 
thousands  who  must  drink  or  die,  and  the  little 
corner  where  its  waters  could  be  reached  waa 
always  crowded,  men  pressing  upon  each  other 
till  often  one  or  another  would  be  pushed  against 
the  dead  line,  shot  by  the  guard,  and  the  body 
left  lying  till  the  next  morning  ;  eyen  if  it  had 
fallen  into  the  water  beyond  the  line,  polluting 
the  scant  supply  left  for  the  Hying.  But  the  cry 
of  these  perishing  ones  had  gone  up  into  the  eari 
of  the  merciful  Father  of  us  all,  and  of  late  a 
spring  of  clear  water  bubbles  up  in  their  midst. 

But  powder  and  shot,  famine,  exposure  (foi 
the  prisoners  haye  no  shelter,  except  as  they  bur- 
row in  the  earth),  and  malaria  from  that  sluggish^ 
Slthy  stream,  and  the  marshy  ground  on  eithei 
side  of  it,  are  doing  a  fearful  work  :  eyery  morn« 
lug  a  wagon  drawn  by  four  mules  is  driyen  in, 
and  the  corpses — scattered  here  and  there  to  tha 
number  of  from  eighty- five  to  a  hundred — gath- 


318  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

ered  up,  tossed  into  it  like  sticks  of  wood,  takes 
away  and  thrown  promiscuously  into  a  hole  dug 
for  the  purpose,  and  earth  shovelled  over  them. 

There  are  corpses  lying  about  now  ;  there  are 
jien,  slowly  breathing  out  their  last  of  life,  with 
no  dying  bed,  no  pillow  save  the  hard  ground, 
no  mother,  wife,  sister,  daughter  near,  to  weep 
over,  or  to  comfort  them  as  they  enter  the  dark 
valley. 

Others  there  are,  wasted  and  worn  till  scarce 
more  than  living  skeletons,  creeping  about  on 
hands  and  feet,  lying  or  sitting  in  every  attitude 
of  despair  and  suffering ;  a  dull,  hopeless  misery 
in  their  sunken  eyes,  a  pathetic  patience  fit  to 
touch  a  heart  of  stone  ;  while  others  still  have 
grown  frantic  with  that  terrible  pain,  the  hunger 
gnawing  at  their  very  vitals,  and  go  staggering 
about,  wildly  raving  in  their  helpless  agony. 

And  on  them  all  the  scorching  sun  beats  piti- 
lessly down.  Hard,  cruel  fate !  scorched  with 
heat,  with  the  cool  shelter  of  the  pine  forests  on 
every  side  ;  perishing  with  hunger  in  a  land  of 
plenty. 

In  one  corner,  but  a  yard  or  so  within  the 
dead  line,  a  group  of  officers  in  the  Federal  uni- 
form— evidently  men  of  culture  and  refinement, 
spite  of  their  hatless  and  shoeless  condition, 
ragged,  soiled  raiment,  unkempt  hair,  and  un- 
shaven faces — sit  on  the  ground,  like  their  com- 
rades in  misfortune,  sweltering  in  the  sun. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


•'  When  will  this  end  ? "  sighs  one.  "  I'd 
sooner  die  a  hundred  deaths  on  the  battle-field.*5 

*'Ah,  who  wouldn't?"  exclaims  another; 
u  to  starve,  roast,  and  freeze  by  turns  for  one's 
country,  requires  more  patriotism  by  far  than  to 
march  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth,  or  charge  up 
bill  under  a  galling  fire  of  musketry." 

"  True  indeed,  Jones,"  returns  a  fair-haired, 
blue-eyed  young  man,  with  face  so  gaunt  and 
hazard  with  famine  that  his  own  mother  would 

GO 

scarcely  have  recognized  him,  and  distinguished 
from  the  rest  by  a  ball  and  chain  attached  to 
wrist  and  ankle  ;  "and  yet  we  bear  it  for  her 
sake  and  for  Freedom's,  Who  of  us  regrets  that 
we  did  not  stay  at  home  in  inglorious  ease,  and 
leave  our  grand  old  ship  of  state  to  founder  and 
go  to  pieces  amid  the  rock3  of  secession  ? " 

"None  of  us,  Allison  !  No,  no  !  the  Union 
forever  ! "  returned  several  voices  in  chorus. 

"Hark  !" — as  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  was 
heard,  and  a  prisoner  who,  half  crazed  with  suf- 
fering, had,  in  staggering  about,  approached  too 
near  the  fatal  line  and  laid  a  hand  upon  it,  fell 
dead — "another  patriot  soul  has  gone  to  iis 
account,  and  another  rebel  earned  a  thirty  days' 
furlough. " 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  speaker  flashed  with 
indignation. 

"  Poor  fellows,  they  don't  know  that  it  is  to 
pre§erve  their  liberties  we  fight,  starve,  and  die  ; 


6M  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

fco  save  them  from  the  despotism  their  ambitious 
and  unscrupulous  leaders  desire  to  establish  over 
them,"  remarked  Harold  Allison  ;  "how  grossly 
the  masses  of  the  Southern  people  have  been 
deceived  by  a  few  hot-headed  politicians,  bent 
upon  obtaining  power  for  themselves  at  what 
ever  cost." 

"  True,"  returned  the  other,  drily  ;  "but  it's 
just  a  little  difficult  to  keep  these  things  in  mind 
under  present  circumstances.  By  the  way,  Alli- 
son, have  you  a  sister  who  married  a  Mr.  Horace 
Dinsmore  ?  " 

"  Yes,  do  you  know  Rose  ? "  asked  Harold, 
in  some  surprise. 

"  I  was  once  a  guest  at  the  Oaks  for  a  fort 
night  or  so,  at  the  time  of  the  marriage  of 
Miss  Elsie,  Mr.  Dinsmore's  daughter,  to  a  Mr. 
Travilla." 

Harold's  face  grew  a  shade  paler,  but  his 
tones  were  calm  and  quiet.  "  Indeed  !  and  may 
I  ask  your  name  ?  " 

"Harry  Duncan,  at  your  service,"  returned 
the  other,  with  a  bow  and  smile.  "  I  met  your 
three  brothers  there,  also  your  sisters,  Mrs.  Car< 
rington  and  Miss  May  Allison." 

The  color  deepened  slightly  on  Harry's  cheek 
as  he  pronounced  the  last  name.  The  pretty 
face,  graceful  form,  charming  manners,  and 
sprightly  conversation  of  the  young  lady  were 
still  fresh  in  his  memory.     Having  enjoyed  the 


ELSIE'S   WOMANHOL 

hospitalities  of  Andersonville  for  but  a  few  flays, 
he  was  in  better  condition,  as  to  health  and 
clothing,  than  the  rest  of  the  group,  who  had 
been  there  for  months. 

"  Harry  Duncan  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  offer- 
ing his  hand,  which  the  other  took  in  a  cordial 
grasp  and  shook  heartily,  "yes,  I  know  ;  I  have 
heard  of  you  and  your  aunt,  Miss  Stanhope.  1 
feel  as  if  I'd  found  a  brother." 

"Thank  you  ;  suppose  we  consider  ourselves 
such ;  a  brother  is  what  I've  been  hankering 
after  ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"Agreed,"  said  Harold.  "Perhaps,"  he 
added,  with  a  melancholy  smile,  "we  may  find 
the  fiction  turned  to  fact  some  day,  if  you  and 
one  of  my  single  sisters  should  happen  to  take  a 
fancy  to  each  other  ;  that  is,  if  we  live  to  get  out 
of  this  and  to  see  home  again."  His  tone  at  the 
last  was  very  desponding. 

"  Cheer  up,"  said  Duncan,  in  a  low,  sympa- 
thizing tone,  "I  think  we  can  find  a  way  to 
escape ;  men  have  done  so  even  from  the  Bastile 
^— a  far  more  difficult  task,  I  should  say." 

"What's  your  idea?" 

"  To  dig  our  way  out,  working  at  night,  and 
covering  up  the  traces  of  our  work  by  day." 

"  Yes,  it's  the  only  way  possible,  so  far  aa  I 

can  see,"  said  Harold.     "  I  have  already  escaped 

twice  in  that  way,  but  only  to  be  retaken,  and 

this  is  what  I  gained,"  shaking  hii  chain,  and 

14* 


322  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

pointing  to  the  heavy  ball  attached.  4  Yet,  if 
I  were  rid  of  this,  and  possessed  of  a  little  more 
strength,  I'd  make  a  third  attempt." 

"  I  think  I  could  rid  yoa  of  that  little  attach- 
ment," returned  Duncan  ;  "and  the  tunnel  once 
ready,  help  you  in  the  race  for  liberty." 

The  others  of  the  group  were  exchanging  sig- 
nificant nods  and  glances. 

"  I  think  we  may  let  Duncan  into  our  secret," 
said  Jones.  "  We're  digging  a  well ;  have  gone 
down  six  feet ;  three  feet  below  the  surface  ia 
soapstone,  so  soft  we  can  cut  it  with  our  jack- 
knives.  We  mean  to  work  our  way  out  to-night 
Will  you  join  us  ?" 

"With  all  my  heart." 

"Suppose  we  are  caught  in  the  attempt," 
said  one. 

"We  can't  be  in  much  worse  condition  than 
now,"  observed  another  ;  "  starving  in  this  pes- 
tiferous atmosphere  filled  with  the  malaria  from 
that  swamp,  and  the  effluvia  from  half-decayed 
corpses ;  men  dying  every  day,  almost  every  hour, 
from  famine,  disease,  or  violence." 

"  No,"  said  Harry,  "  we  may  bring  upon  our- 
selves what  Allison  is  enduring,  or  instant  death  ; 
but  I  for  one  would  prefer  the  latter  to  the  slow 
torture  of  starvation." 

"If  we  are  ready,"  said  Harold,  in  low, 
solemn  tones.  "  It  is  appointed  to  men  once  to 
die,  and  after  that  tUe  judgment " 


ELSiE-S  WOMANHOOD.  323 

41  And  what  should  you  say  was  the  needful 
preparation  ?  "  queried  another,  half -mockingly. 
"'Kepent  ye  and  'believe  the  gospel.'  'Let 
the  wicked  forsake  his  way  and  the  unrighteous 
man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the 
Lord  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  him  ;  and  to 
our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon,'  '  Be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  thou  shalt 
be  saved.' " 

Silence  fell  on  the  little  group.  Duncan's 
eye3  wandered  over  the  field,  over  the  thousands 
of  brave  men  herded  together  there  like  cattle, 
with  none  of  the  comforts,  few  of  the  necessa- 
ries of  life — over  the  living,  the  dying,  the  dead  ; 
taking  m  the  whole  aggregate  of  suffering  with 
one  sweeping  glance.  His  eyes  filled  ;  his  whole 
soul  was  moved  with  compassion,  while  he  half 
forgot  that  he  himself  was  one  of  them. 

How  much  were  the  consolations  of  God 
needed  here  !  how  few,  comparatively,  possessed 
them.  But  some  there  were  who  did,  and  were 
trying  to  impart  them  to  others.  Should  he 
stay  and  share  in  this  good  work  ?  Perhaps  he 
ought )  he  almost  thought  so  for  a  moment ;  but 
he  remembered  his  country's  need ;  he  had 
enlisted  for  the  war ;  he  must  return  to  active 
service,  if  he  could. 

Then  his  eye  fell  upon  Harold.  Here  was  a 
noble  life  to  be  saved  ;  a  life  that  would  inevit- 
ably be  lost  to  friends,  relatives,  country,  by  but 


324  ELSIE'S  WOMANHGOD. 

a  few  weeks'  longer  sojourn  in  this  horrible  place. 
Duncan's  determination  was  taken  :  with  the 
help  of  God  the  morning  light  should  find  them 
both  free  and  far  on  their  way  toward  the  Union 
lines. 

"  We'll  try  it,  comrades,  to-night,"  he  said 
aloud. 

"So  we  will,"  they  answered  with  determi- 
nation. 

A  man  came  staggering  toward  them,  gesticu- 
lating wildly  and  swearing  horrible  oaths. 

"He  is  crazed  with  hunger,  poor  fellow," 
remarked  Ilarold. 

Duncan  was  gazing  steadily  at  the  man  who 
had  now  sunk  panting  upon  the  ground,  ex- 
hausted by  hi3  own  violence.  Evidently  he  had 
once  possessed  more  than  an  ordinary  share  of 
physicial  beauty,  but  vice  and  evil  passions  had 
set  their  stamp  upon  his  features,  and  famine 
had  done  its  ghastly  work  ;  he  was  but  a  wreck 
of  his  former  self. 

"  Where  have  I  seen  that  face  ?  "  murmured 
Harry,  unconsciously  thinking  aloud. 

"  In  the  rogues'  gallery,  perhaps.  Tom  Jack- 
jon  is  his  name,  or  one  of  his  names  ;  for  he  has 
several  aliases,  I'm  told,"  remarked  some  one 
standing  near. 

"  Yes,  he's  the  very  man  ! "  exclaimed  Harry. 
"I  have  studied  his  photograph  and  recognize 
him   fully,  in  spite  of    famine's  ravages.     The 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  BM 

wretch !  he  deserves  all  he  suffers  :  and  yet  I 
pity  him." 

"  What !  the  would-be  assassin  of  Yiamede  ?  w 
and  Harold  started  to  hi3  feet,  the  hot  bloo3 
dying  his  thin  cheeks. 

"  The  same.  You  feel  like  lynching  him  on 
the  spot ;  and  no  wonder.  But  refrain  ;  they 
would  bid  you,  and  he  is  already  suffering  a  worse 
fate  than  any  you  could  mete  out  to  him." 

"  God  forgive  me  ! "  groaned  Harold,  drop- 
ping down  again  and  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands, 
"  I  believe  there  was  murder  in  my  heart." 

"The  story?  what  was  it?"  asked  Jones. 
"  Tell  it,  Duncan ;  anything  to  help  us  to  a 
moment's  forgetfulness." 

The  others  joined  in  the  request,  and  Duncan 
gave  the  full  particulars  of  the  several  attempts 
Jackson  had  made  upon  the  lives  of  Mr.  Travilia 
and  Elsie. 

Allison  never  once  lifted  his  face  during  the 
recital,  but  the  rest  listened  with  keen  interest. 

"  The  fellow  richly  deserves  lynching,"  was  the 
unanimous  verdict,  "  but,  as  you  say,  is  already 
suffering  a  far  worse  fate. " 

"  And  yet  no  worse  than  that  of  thousands 
of  innocent  men,"  remarked  Jones  bitterly. 
"Where's  the  justice  of  it  ? " 

"  Do  you  expect  even-handed  justice  here  ? ,r 
Inquired  another. 

"  Perhaps  he  may  be  no  worse  in  the  sight  of 


3M  ELBIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

God,  than  some  of  the  rest  of  us,"  said  Harold, 
in  low,  grave  tones ;  "  wo  do  not  know  what 
evil  influences  may  have  surrounded  him  from 
his  very  birth,  or  whether,  exposed  to  the  same, 
we  would  have  turned  out  any  better/' 

"I'm  perishing  with  thirst,"  said  Jones, 
"and  must  try  pushing  through  that  crowd 
about  the  spring." 

He  wandered  off  and  the  group  scattered} 
leaving  Harold  and  Duncan  alone  together. 

The  two  had  a  long  talk  :  of  home,  common 
friends  and  acquaintance  ;  of  the  war,  what  this 
or  that  Federal  force  wa3  probably  now  attempt- 
ing ;  what  future  movements  were  likely  to 
be  made,  and  how  the  contest  would  end ; 
neither  doubting  the  final  triumph  of  the  gov- 
ernment. 

"And  that  triumph  can't  be  very  far  off 
either,"  concluded  Harry.  "I  think  the  strug- 
gle will  be  over  before  thi3  time  next  year, 
and  I  hope  you  and  I  may  have  a  ha>^d  in  the 
winding  up." 

"  Perhaps  you  may,"  Allison  rejoined  a  little 
sadly  ;  "  but  I,  I  fear,  have  struck  my  last  blow 
for  my  native  land," 

"You  are  not  strong  now,  but  good  nursing 
may  do  wonders  for  you,"  answered  Harrv 
cheerily  "  Once  with.'.*  the  Union  lines,  and 
you  will  feel  like  another  man." 

"  Ah,  but  how  to  get  me  there  ?  that's  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  82? 

rag  of  war,"  said  Harold,  but  with  a  smile  and 
in  tones  more  hopeful  than  his  words,  "  Dun- 
can, you  are  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Allison  :  Jesue  Christ  is  the  Captain 
of  my  salyation ;  in  whom  I  trust,  and  in  whose 
seryice  I  desire  to  live  and  die." 

"Then  are  we  brothers  indeed?"  and  with 
the  words  their  right  hands  joined  in  a  more 
cordial  grasp  than  before. 

The  sun  was  nearing  the  western  horizon 
when  at  length  Harold  was  left  alone.  He  bowed 
his  head  upon  hi3  knees  in  thought  and  prayer, 
remaining  thus  for  many  minutes,  striving  for  a 
spirit  of  forgiveness  and  compassion  toward  the 
coward  wretch  who  would  have  slain  one  dearer 
to  him  than  life. 

At  last,  as  the  shadows  of  evening  were  gath- 
ering over  the  place,  he  lifted  a  pale,  patient  face  ; 
and  rising,  made  his  way  slowly  and  with  diffi- 
culty toward  the  spot  where  Jackson  lay  pros- 
trate on  the  ground,  groaning  and  crying  like 
a  child. 

Sitting  down  beside  the  miserable  creature, 
he  spoke  to  him  in  gentle,  soothing  tones,  "  Yon 
have  been  here  a  long  time  ?  " 

"  The  longest  year  that  ever  I  lived  !  but  it 
won't  last  much  longer  ; "  and  he  uttered  a  /ear- 
ful oath. 

"Are  you  expecting  to  be  exchanged  ?" 

"  Exchanged  !  no.     What  do  those  fellows  at 


328  ELSIE'S  WOMANHLOD. 

Wasln  igton  care  about  our  lives  ?  They'll  delay 
and  delay  till  we're  all  starved  to  death,  like 
hundreds  and  thousands  before  us ; "  and  again  he 
concluded  with  a  volley  of  oaths  and  curses,  be- 
stowed indiscriminately  upon  the  President  and 
Congress,  Jeff  Davis,  Wirtz,  and  the  guard. 

Harold  was  shocked  at  his  profanity.  "  Man," 
said  he  solemnly,  "do  you  know  that  you  are  on 
the  brink  of  the  grave  ?  and  must  soon  appear  at 
the  bar  of  Him  whose  holy  name  you  are  taking 
in  vain  ?" 

k*  Curse  you  ! "  he  cried,  lifting  his  head  for 
a  moment,  then  dropping  it  again  on  the  ground  ; 
"  take  your  cant  to  some  other  market,  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  a  God,  or  heaven  or  hell :  and  the  sooner 
I  die  the   better ;  for  I'll  be  out  of  my  misery.* 

"No;  that  is  a  fatal  delusion,  and  unless 
you  turn  and  repent,  and  believe  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  death  can  only  plunge  you  into 
deeper  misery,  You  have  only  a  little  while  ! 
Oh,  I  beseech  you,  don't  cast  away  your  last 
chance  to  secure  pardon,  peace  and  eternal  life  ! " 

"  You're  *  casting  your  pearls  before  swine,'  " 
returned  the  man, sneeringly.  "Not  to  say  that 
I'm  a  hog  exactly,  but  I've  not  a  bit  more  of  a 
soul  than  if  I  was.  Your  name's  Allison, 
isn't  it?" 

"It  is." 

"  D'ye  know  anybody  named  Dinsmore  ?  01 
Travilla  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  329 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  know  who  you  are,  Jackson, 
and  of  your  crimes  against  them.  In  the  sight 
of  God  yon  are  a  murderer." 

"  You  tell  me  to  repent.  I've  repented  many 
a  time  that  I  didn't  take  better  aim  and  blow  his 
brains  out  ;  yes,  and  hers  too.  I  hoped  I  had, 
till  I  saw  the  account  in  the  papers. " 

Harold's  teeth  and  hands  were  tightly 
clenched,  in  an  almost  superhuman  effort  to  keep 
himself  quiet ;  and  the  man  went  on  without 
interruption. 

"  He'd  nearly  made  a  finish  of  me,  but  I  was 
dmart  enough  to  escape  them,  bloodhounds  and 
all.  I  got  over  the  border  into  Texas ;  had  a 
pretty  good  time  there  for  awhile — after  I  recov- 
ered from  that  awful  blood-letting  ;  but  when 
secession  began,  I  slipped  oft  and  came  North. 
You  think  I'm  all  bad  ;  but  I  had  a  kind  of  love 
for  the  old  flag,  and  went  right  into  the  army. 
Besides,  I  thought  it  might  give  me  a  chance  to 
put  a  bullet  through  some  o'  those  that  had 
thwarted  my  plans,  and  would  have  had  me 
lynched,  if  they  could." 

Harold  rose  and  went  away,  thinking  that 
verily  he  had  been  casting  his  pearls  before  swine. 

Jackson  had,  indeed,  thrown  away  his  last 
chance  ;  rejected  the  last  oifer  of  salvation  ;  for, 
ere  morning,  life  had  fled.  Starved  to  death  and 
gone  into  eternity  without    God  and    without 


330  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

hope  !  his  bitterest  foe  could  not  have  desired 
for  him  a  more  terrible  fate. 

There  was  no  moon  that  night,  and  the  even- 
ing was  cloudy  making  a  favorable  condition  oi 
affairs  for  the  prisoners  contemplating  an  escape. 
As  soon  a3  the  darkness  was  dense  enough  to 
conceal  their  movements  from  the  guard,  the  work 
of  tunnelling  began. 

It  was  a  tedious  business,  as  they  had  none  of 
the  proper  tools,  and  only  one  or  two  could  work 
at  a  time  at  the  digging  and  cutting  away  of 
the  stone  ;  but  they  relieved  each  other  frequently 
at  that,  while  those  on  the  outside  carried  away 
in  their  coats  or  whatever  came  to  hand,  the  earth 
and  fragments  of  stone  dislodged,  and  spread 
them  over  the  marshy  ground  near  the  creek. 

Duncan,  returning  from  one  of  these  trips, 
spoke  in  an  undertone  to  Harold  Allison,  who 
with  a  rude  file  made  of  a  broken  knife -blade, 
was  patiently  endeavoring  to  free  himself  from 
his  shackles. 

"  Jackson  is  dead.  I  half  stumbled  over  a 
corpse  in  the  dark,  when  a  man  close  by  (the 
same  one  that  told  us  this  afternoon  who  the 
fellow  was — I  recognized  the  voice)  said,  '  He's 
just  breathed  his  last,  poor  wretch  !  died  with  a 
curse  on  his  lips.'  'Who  is  he?'  I  asked; 
and  he  answered  ' Tom  Jackson  was  one  of  his 


ELSIB'8  WOMANHOOD  Mi 

•'Gone!"  said  Harold,  "and  with  all  his 
sins  upon  his  head." 

"  Tes  ;  it's  awful  !  Here,  let  me  work  that 
for  awhile.     You're  very  tired." 

The  proffered  assistance  was  thankfully  ac- 
cepted, and  another  half-hour  of  vigorous  effort 
set  Harold's  lirnhe  free.  He  stretched  them  out. 
with  a  low  exclamation  of  gratitude  and  relief. 

At  the  same  instant  a  whisper  came  to  their 
ears.  "  The  work's  done  at  last.  Jones  is  out. 
Parsons  close  at  hi3  heels.  Cos  hehind  him. 
Will  you  go  next?" 

"  Thanks,  no  ;  I  will  be  the  last,"  said  Dun- 
can ;  "  and  take  charge  of  Allison  here,  who  is  too 
weak  to  travel  far  alone." 

"  Then  I'm  off,"  returned  the  voice.  "  Don't 
lose  a  minute  in  following  me." 

"  Now,  Allison,"  whispered  Harry,  "  summon 
all  your  strength  and  courage,  old  fellow." 

"  Duncan,  you  are  a  true  and  noble  friend  ! 
God  reward  you.     Let  me  be  last." 

"No,  in  with  you,  man  !  not  an  instant  to 
spare  ; "  and  with  kindly  force  he  half  lifted  his 
friend  into  the  well,  and  guided  him  to  the  mouth 
of  the  tunnel. 

Allison  crept  through  it  as  fast  as  his  feeble 
strength  would  permit,  Duncan  close  behind  him- 

They  emerged  in  safety,  as  the  others  had 
lone  before  them  ;  at  once  scattering  in  different 
directions. 


S82  JCLSIE'8  WOMANHOOV. 

These  two  moved  on  together,  for  several 
minutes,  plunging  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
woods,  but  presently  paused  to  take  breath  and 
consider  their  bearings. 

"  Oh,  the  air  of  liberty  is  sweet ! "  exclaimed 
Duncan,  in  low,  exultant  tones ;  "  but  we  musn't 
delay  here." 

"  No  ;  we  are  far  from  safe  yet,"  panted 
Allison  ;  "  but — '  prayer  and  provender  hinder 
no  man's  journey ' ;  Duncan,  let  us  spend  one 
moment  in  silent  prayer  for  success  in  reaching 
the  Union  lines." 

They  did  so,  kneeling  on  the  ground  ;  then 
rose  and  pressed  forward  with  confidence.  G-od, 
whose  servants  they  were  and  whose  help  they  had 
asked,  would  guide  them  in  the  right  direction. 

"  What  a  providence  ! "  exclaimed  Duncan, 
grasping  Harold's  arm,  as  they  came  out  upon  an 
opening  in  the  wood.  "  See  !  "  and  he  pointed 
upward,  "the  clouds  have  broken  away  a  little, 
and  there  shines  the  North  Star :  we  can  steei 
by  that" 

"  Thank  God !  and,  so  far,  we  have  been 
travelling  in  the  right  direction." 

"  Amen !  and  we  must  press  on  with  all 
peed ;  for  daylight  will  soon  be  upon  us,  and 
with  it,  in  all  probability,  our  escape  will  be  dis- 
covered and  pursuit  begun." 

No  more  breath  could  be  spared  for  talk,  and 
tbey  pushed  on  in  silence,  now  scrambling  through 


EL81BJ8  WOMANHOOD,  33S 

a  thicket  of  underbrush,  tearing  their  closhes 
and  not  seldom  lacerating  their  flesh  also ;  now 
leaping  oyer  a  fallen  tree,  anon  climbing  a  hill, 
and  again  fording  or  swimming  a  stream. 

At  length  Harold,  sinking  down  upon  a  log, 
said,  "lam  utterly  exhausted  !  Can  go  no  far- 
ther. Go  on,  and  leave  me  to  follow  as  I  can 
after  a  little  rest." 

"STot  a  step  without  you,  Allison,"  returned 
Duncan,  determinedly.  "Rest  a  bit,  and  then 
try  it  again  with  the  help  of  my  arm.  Courage, 
old  fellow,  we  must  have  put  at  least  six  or  eight 
miles  between  us  and  our  late  quarters.  Ah,  ha  ! 
yonder  are  some  blackberry  bushes,  well  laden 
with  ripe  fruit  Sit  or  lie  still  while  I  gather 
our  breakfast." 

Hastily  snatching  a  handful  of  oak  leaves, 
and  forming  a  rude  basket  by  pinning  them 
together  with  thorns,  he  quickly  made  his  way 
to  the  bushes,  a  few  yards  distant,  while  Harold 
stretched  himself  upon  the  log  and  closed  his 
weary  eyes. 

He  thought  he  had  hardly  done  so  when 
Duncan  touched  his  arm. 

"  Sorry  to  wake  you,  Allison,  but  time  is 
precious ;  and,  like  the  beggars,  we  must  eat 
and  rum" 

The  basket  was  heaped  high  with  large,  de- 
licious berries,  which  greatly  refreshed  our  tra^ 
ellers. 


334  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"l\ow,  then,  are  you  equal  to  another 
effort  ?  "  asked  Duncan,  as  the  last  one  disap- 
peared, and  he  thrust  the  loaves  into  his  pocket, 
adding,  "  We  musn't  leave  these  to  tell-tales  to 
our  pursuers. ' 

"  Yes,  I  dare  not  linger  here,"  returned  Alli- 
son, rising  but  totteringly. 

Duncan  threw  an  arm  about  him,  and  again 
they  pressed  forward,  toiling  on  for  another  half- 
hour  ;  when  Allison  again  gave  out,  and  sinking 
upon  the  ground,  begged  his  friend  to  leave  him 
and  secure  his  own  safety. 

"  Never  ! "  cried  Duncan,  "  never  !  There 
would  be  more,  many  more,  to  mourn  your  loss 
than  mine.  Who  would  shed  a  tear  for  me  but 
Aunt  Wealthy.  Dear  old  soul,  it  would  be  hard 
for  her,  I  know ;  bat  she'd  soon  follow  me." 

"Yes,  you  are  her  all;  but  there's  a  large 
family  of  us,  and  I  could  easily  be  spared." 

Duncan  shook  his  head.  "  Was  your  brother 
who  fell  at  Ball's  Bluff  easily  spared  ?  But  hark  ! 
what  was  that  ?  "  He  bent  his  ear  to  the  ground. 
"  The  distant  bay  of  hounds  !  We  must  push 
on  I "  he  cried,  starting  up  in  haste. 

"  Bloodhounds   on  our  track  ?    Horrible  ! n 
exclaimed  Harold,  also  starting  to  his  feet,  weak- 
ness and  fatigue  forgotten  for  the  moment,  j 
the  terror  inspired  by  that  thought. 

Duncan  again  gave  him  the  support  of  hifl 
%rm,  and  for  the  next  half- hour  they  ^ree^ed  on 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  S35 

quite  rapidly  ;  yet  their  pursuers  were  gaining  on 
them,  for  the  bay  of  the  hounds,  though  still 
distant,  could  now  be  distinctly  heard,  and  AHi- 
sons  strength  again  gave  away. 

"I— can — go  no  farther,  Duncan,"  he  said, 
pantingly;  "let  me  climb  up  yon  tall  oak  and 
conceal  myself  among  the  branches,  while  you 
hurry  on." 

"  No,  no,  they  would  discover  you  directly, 
ard  it  would  be  surrender  or  die.  Ah,  see  1 
there's  a  little  log  cabin  behind  those  bushes,  and 
who  knows  but  we  may  find  help  there.  Courage, 
and  hope,  my  boy  ; n  and  almost  carrying  Harold, 
Duncan  hurried  to  the  door  of  the  hut. 

Pushing  it  open,  and  seeing  an  old  negro  in- 
side, "Cato,  Caesar — " 

"Uncle  Scip,  sah," grinned  the  negro. 

"  Well,  no  matter  for  the  name  ;  will  ycu 
help  us  ?  We're  Federal  soldiers  just  escaped 
from  Andersonyille,  and  they're  after  us  with 
bloodhounds.  Can  you  tell  us  of  anything  that 
will  put  the  savage  brutes  o2  the  scent  ?  " 

"Sah?" 

"  Something  that  will  stop  the  hounds  from  fol- 
lowing us — quick,  quick  !  if  you  know  anything,  * 

The  n?gro  sprang  up,  reached  a  bottle  from  a 
shelf,  and  handing  it  to  Harry,  said,  "  Turpen- 
tine, sah  ;  rub  um  on  your  feet,  genlemen,  an'  de 
hounds  won't  follah  you  no  moah.  But  please, 
sah.8,  go  little  ways  off  into  the  woods  fo'  you 


338  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

use  uin  so  de  rebs  not  tink  dis  chile  gib  urn 
to  ye." 

Harry  clutched  the  bottle,  throwing  down  a 
sen-dollar  bill  (all  the  money  he  had  about  him) 
at  Uncle  Scip's  feet,  and  dragging  Harold  some 
hundred  yards  farther  into  the  depths  of  the 
wood,  seated  him  on  a  log,  applied  the  turpentine 
plentifully  to  his  feet,  and  then  to  his  own. 

All  this  time  the  baying  of  the  hounds  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  till  it  seemed  that  the  next 
moment  would  bring  them  into  sight. 

"  Up  ! "  cried  Harry,  flinging  away  the  empty 
bottle,  "  one  more  tug  for  life  and  liberty,  or  we 
are  lost  I " 

Harold  did  not  speak,  but  hope  and  fear  once 
more  inspiring  him  with  temporary  strength,  he 
rose  and  hurried  on  by  the  side  of  his  friend.  Com- 
ing presently  to  a  cleared  space,  they  almost  flew 
across  it,  and  gained  the  shelter  of  the  woods  be- 
70nd.    The  cry  of  the  hounds  was  no  longer  heard. 

"  They've  lost  the  scent,  sure  enough,"  said 
Duncan,  exultingly  ;  "  a  little  farther  and  I  think 
we  may  venture  to  rest  awhile,  concealing  ourselves 
in  some  thicket.  Indeed  'twill  now  be  safer  to  hide 
by  day,  and  continue  our  journey  by  night." 

They  did  so,  spending  that  and  the  next  day 
in  hiding,  living  upon  roots  and  berries,  and  the 
next  two  nights  in  travelling  in  the  supposed 
direction  of  the  nearest  Union  camp,  coming 
upon  the  pickets  abcut  sunrise  of  the  third  day, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  33? 

They  were  of  Captain  Duncan's  own  regiment 
and  he  was  immediately  recognized  with  a 
delighted,  ' <  Hurrah  !  " 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Union  and  the  old  flag  1 n 
returned  Harry,  waying  a  greefa  branch  aboya  his 
head,  in  lieu  of  the  military  $&p  h*  had  bees 
fobbed  of  by  his  capton. 
15 


"  In  peace,  love  tunes  the  shepherd's  reed  ; 
In  trar,  he  mounts  the  warrior's  steed  ; 
La  hall*,  in  gay  attire  is  seen  ; 
In  hamlets,  dances  on  the  green  ; 
Love  rules  the  court,  the  camp,  the  grora. 
And  men  helow  and  saints  above  ; 
For  love  is  heaven,  and  heaven  is  love." 

— Score. 

"Escaped  prisoners  from  Andersonville* 
8h  P  n  queried  the  guard  gathering  about  them. 

"  Yes  ;  and  more  than  half -starred  ;  espe- 
cially my  friend  here,  Captain  Allison  of  the  — " 

But  the  sentence  was  left  unfinished  ;  for  at 
that  instant  Harold  reeled,  and  would  have  fallen 
but  for  the  strong  arm  of  another  officer  quickly 
outstretched  to  save  him. 

They  made  a  litter  and  carried  him  into  camp, 
where  restoratives  were  immediately  applied. 

He  soon  recovered  from  his  f aintness,  but  wag 
found  to  be  totally  unfit  for  duty,  and  sent  to  the 
hospital  at  Washington,  where  he  was  placed  in 
a  bed  adjoining  that  of  his  brother  Richard,  and 
fallowed  to  share  with  him  in  the  attentions  of 
Dr.  King,  Miss  Lottie,  and  his  own  sister  May. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  339 

How  they  all  wept  oyer  him — reduced  almost 
to  a  skeleton,  so  wan,  so  weak,  so  aged,  in  those 
few  short  months. 

He  recognized  his  brother  and  sister  with  a 
faint  smile,  a  murmured  word  or  two,  then  sank 
into  a  state  of  semi-stupor,  from  which  he  roused 
only  when  spoken  to,  relapsing  into  it  again  im* 
mediately. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  medical  skill  and  tender, 
careful  nursing  told  upon  his  exhausted  frame 
till  at  length  he  seemed  to  awake  to  new  life, 
began  to  notice  what  was  going  on  about  him, 
was  able  to  take  part  in  a  cheerful  chat  now  and 
then,  and  became  eager  for  news  from  home  and 
of  the  progress  of  the  war. 

Months  had  passed  away.  In  the  meantime 
Eichard  had  returned  to  camp,  and  Harry  Dun- 
can, wounded  in  a  late  battle,  now  occupied  his 
deserted  bed  in  the  hospital. 

Harry  was  suffering,  but  in  excellent  spirits. 

"  Cheer  up,  Allison,"  he  said  ;  "  you  and  I 
will  neyer  go  back  to  Andersonyille  ;  the  war 
can't  last  much  longer,  and  we  may  consider  the 
Union  saved.  Ah  !  this  is  a  yast  improvement 
upon  Andersonyille  fare,"  he  added  gayly,  as  Lot- 
tie and  May  appeared  before  them,  each  bearing 
a  tray  with  a  delicious  little  lunch  upon  it, 
"  Miss  Lottie,  I'm  almost  tempted  to  say  it  pays 
to  be  ill  or  wounded,  that  one  may  b#  tended  b^ 
fail  ladies'  hands," 


340  ELSIE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

Ah,  that  speech  should  have  come  from  Mr 
Allison,  for  May  is  fair  and  her  hands  are  white, 
while  mine  are  brown,"  she  answered  demurely, 
as  she  set  her  tray  within  his  reach,  May  doing 
the  same  for  Harold. 

"JSTone  less  the  beautiful,  Miss  King,"  re- 
turned Duncan  gallantly.  "  Many  a  whiter  hand 
is  not  half  so  shapely  or  so  useful.  Now  reward 
me  for  that  pretty  compliment  by  coaxing  your 
father  to  get  me  well  as  fast  as  possible,  that  I 
may  have  a  share  in  the  taking  of  Eichmond." 

"That  would  be  a  waste  of  breath,  as  he's 
doing  all  he  can  already;  but  I'll  do  my  part 
with  coddling,  write  all  your  letters  for  you — 
business,  friendship,  love — and  do  anything  else 
desired  ;  if  in  my  power." 

"  You're  very  good,"  he  said,  with  a  furtive 
glance  at  May,  who  seemed  to  see  or  hear  noth- 
ing but  her  brother,  who  was  asking  about  the 
last  news  from  home  ;  "very  good  indeed,  Misa 
King ;  especially  as  regards  the  love  letters.  I 
presume  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  me  even  to 
be  at  the  trouble  of  dictating  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  certainly  not !  " 

"Joking  aside,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  if 
you  will  write  to  Aunt  Wealthy  to-day  for  me." 

"  With  pleasure  ;  especially  as  I  can  tell  her 
your  wound  is  not  a  dangerous  one,  and  you  will 
not  lose  a  limb.  But  do  tell  me.  What  did  jqv 
poor  fellows  get  to  eat  at  Anderson ville  ?  * 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

*  Well,  one  week's  daily  ration  consisted  of  one 
pint  of  corn  meal  ground  up  cob  and  all  togeth- 
er, fonr  onnces  of  mule  meat,  generally  spoiled 
and  emitting  anything  but  an  appetizing  odor  ; 
but  then  we  were  not  troubled  with  want  of — the 
best  of  sauce  for  our  meals." 

"  Hunger  ?  " 

"Yes ;  we'd  plenty  of  that  always.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  corn  meal  and  meat,  we  had  a  nail 
pint  of  peas  full  of  bugs." 

"Oh  !  you  poor  creatures  !  I  hope  it  was  a 
little  better  the  alternate  week." 

"Just  the  same,  except,  in  lieu  of  the  com 
meal,  we  had  three  square  inches  of  corn  bread,* 

"Is  it  jest;  or  earnest?"  asked  Lottie, 
appealing  to  Harold. 

"  Head  earnest,  Miss  King  ;  and  for  medicins 
we  had  sumac  and  white-oak  bark." 

"  ISTo  matter  what  ailed  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  that  made  no  difference. " 

To  Harry's  impatience  the  winter  wore  slowly 
away  while  he  was  confined  within  the  hospital 
walls  ;  yet  the  daily,  almost  hourly  sight  of  May 
Allison's  sweet  face,  and  the  sound  of  her  musi- 
cal voice,  went  far  to  reconcile  him  to  this  life  of 
inactivity  and  "inglorious  ease,"  as  he  termed 
it  in  hi3  moments  of  restless  longing  to  be  again 
in  the  field. 

By  the  last  of  March  this  ardent  desire  was 
granted,  and  he  hurried  away  in  fine  spirits,  le&v- 


342  ELSIE  8  WOMANHOOD. 

mg  May  pale  and  tearful,  but  with  a  ring  on  le< 
linger  that  had  not  been  there  before. 

'^Ah,"  said  Lottie,  pointing  to  it  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  her  eye,  and  passing  her  arm 
about  May's  waist  as  she  spoke,  "  I  shall  be  yery 
generous,  and  not  tease  as  you  did  when  some- 
body else  treated  me  exactly  so." 

"  It  is  good  of  you,"  whispered  May,  laying 
her  wet  cheek  on  her  friend's  shoulder ;  "  and 
I'm  eyer  so  glad  you're  to  be  my  sister." 

"  And  won't  Aunt  Wealthy  rejoice  oyer  you 
as  oyer  a  mine  of  gold  !  " 

Poor  Harold,  sitting  pale  and  weak  upon  the 
side  of  his  cot,  longing  to  be  with  his  friend, 
sharing  his  labors  and  perils,  yet  feeling  that  the 
springs  of  life  were  broken  within  him,  was  lift- 
ing up  a  silent  prayer  for  strength  to  endure  to 
the  end. 

A  familiar  step  drew  near,  and  Dr.  King  laid 
his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"  Cheer  up,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "  we  are 
trying  to  get  you  leaye  to  go  home  for  thirty 
days,  and  the  war  will  be  oyer  before  the  time 
expires;  so  that  you  will  not  haye  to  come 
back." 

"  Home  ! "  and  Harold's  eye  brightened  for 
a  moment ;  "  yes,  I  should  like  to  die  at  home, 
with  mother  and  father,  brothers  and  sisteri 
about  me," 

"  But  yon  are  not  going  to  die  just  jet,"  re* 


SLBIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  343 

toned  the  doctor,  with  assumed  gayety  •  tr  and 
home  and  mother  will  do  wonders  for  yon." 

"Dr.  King,"  and  the  blue  eyes  looked  up 
o&lmly  and  steadily  into  the  physician's  face, 
"  please  tell  me  exactly  what  you  think  of  my 
case.     Is  there  any  hope  of  recovery  ?  " 

"  You  may  improve  very  much  :  I  think  you 
will  when  you  get  home  ;  and,  though  there  is 
little  hope  of  the  entire  recovery  of  your  former 
health  and  strength,  you  may  live  for  years." 

"But  it  is  likely  I  shall  not  live  another 
year  ?  do  not  he  afraid  to  say  so :  I  should 
rather  welcome  the  news.     Am  I  not  right  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I — I  think  you  are  nearing  home,  my 
dear  boy  ;  the  land  where  f  the  inhabitant  shall 
not  say,  I  am  sick.' " 

There  was  genuine  feeling  in  the  doctors 
tone. 

A  moment's  silence,  and  Harold  said,  "  Thank 
you.  It  is  what  I  have  suspected  for  some  time  ; 
and  it  causes  me  no  regret,  save  for  the  sake  of 
those  who  love  me  and  will  grieve  over  my  early 
death." 

"  But  don't  forget  that  there  is  still  a  possi- 
bility of  recuperation  ;  while  there's  life  there's 
nope." 

"  True  !  and  I  will  let  them  hope  on  as  long 
as  they  can." 

The  doctor  passed  on  to  another  patient,  and 
Harold  was  again  left  to  the  companionship  of 


344  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

his  own  thoughts.  But  not  for  long  ;  they  were 
presently  broken  in  upon  by  the  appearance  of 
May  with  a  very  bright  face. 

"  See  ! "  she  cried  joyously,  holding  up  a 
package ;  "  letters  from  home,  and  Naples  too. 
lloso  writes  to  mamma,  and  she  has  enclosed  the 
letter  for  our  benefit" 

"  Then  let  us  enjoy  it  together.  Sit  here  and 
read  it  to  me ;  will  you  ?  My  eyes  are  rather 
weak,  you  know,  and  I  see  the  ink  is  pale." 

<e  But  mamma's  note  to  you  ?  " 

"  Can  wait  its  turn.  I  always  like  to  keep 
the  best  till  the  last." 

Harold  hardly  acknowledged  to  himself  that 
he  was  very  eager  to  hear  news  from  Elsie  ;  even 
more  than  to  read  the  loying  words  from  his 
mother's  pen. 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  there  seems  to  be  no 
secret,"  said  May,  glancing  over  the  contents  ; 
and  seating  herself  by  his  side  she  began. 

After  speaking  of  some  other  matters,  Eose 
went  on  :  "  But  I  have  kept  my  greatest  piece 
till  now.  Our  family  is  growing ;  we  have  an- 
other grandson  who  arrived  about  two  weekg 
ago  ;  Harold  Allison  Travilla  by  name. 

"  Elsie  is  doing  finely ;  the  sleepy  little  new- 
comer is  greatly  admired  and  loved  by  old  and 
young;  we  make  as  great  a  to-do  over  him  as 
though  he  were  the  first  instead  of  the  fourth 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  345 

grandchild.     My    husband  and  I  are  growing 
quite  patriarchal 

"  Elsie  is  the  loveliest  and  the  best  of  moth- 
ers, perfectly  devoted  to  her  children  ;  so  patient 
and  so  tender,  so  loving  and  gentle,  and  yet  so 
firm.  Mr.  Travilla  and  she  are  of  one  mind  in 
regard  to  their  training,  requiring  as  prompt  and 
cheerful  obedience  as  Horace  always  has  ;  yet 
exceedingly  indulgent  wherever  indulgence  can 
do  no  harm.  One  does  not  often  see  so  well- 
trained  and  yet  so  merry  and  happy  a  family  of 
little  folks. 

"Tell  our  Harold — my  poor  dear  brother — 
that  we  hope  his  name-child  will  be  an  honor 
to  him." 

"  Are  you  not  pleased  ?  "  asked  May,  pausing 
to  look  up  at  him. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  with  a  quiet,  rather 
melancholy  smile  ;  "  they  are  very  kind  to  remem- 
ber me  so.  I  hope  they  will  soon  bring  the  little 
fellow  to  see  me.  Ah,  I  knew  Elsie  would  make 
just  such  a  lovely  mother." 

"  Nothing  about  the  time  of  their  return," 
observed  May,  as  she  finished  reading  ;  "  but  they 
will  hardly  linger  long  after  the  close  of  the  war. n 

May  had  left  the  room,  and  Harold  lay  lan- 
guid and  weak  upon  his  cot.  A  Confederate 
officer,  occupying  the  next,  addressed  him,  rous- 
ing him  out  of  the  reverie  into  which  he  had 
fallen. 

IS* 


346  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  could  not  help  hear- 
ing  some  parts  of  the  letter  read  aloud  by  the 
lady — your  sister,  I  believe — " 

"  Yes.  Of  course  you  could  not  help  hear* 
ing,  and  there  is  no  harm  done,"  Harold  an- 
swered with  a  friendly  tone  and  smile.  "  So  no 
need  for  apologies." 

"  But  there  is  something  else.  Did  you  knot* 
anything  of  a  Lieutenant  Walter  Dinsmore,  be- 
longing to  our  side,  who  fell  in  the  battle  of 
Shiloh?" 

"  Yes ;  knew  and  loved  him  ! "  exclaimed 
Harold,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  turn- 
ing a  keenly  interested,  questioning  gaze  upon 
the  stranger. 

"  Then  it  is,  it  must  be  the  same  family, " 
8aid  the  latter,  half  to  himself  half  to  Harold. 

"  Same  as  what,  sir  ?  " 

"  That  letter  I  could  not  help  hearing  wag 
dated  Naples,  signed  Rose  Dinsmore,  and  talked 
of  Elsie,  Mr.  Travilla,  and  their  children.  Now 
Lieutenant  Dinsmore  told  me  he  had  a  brother 
residing  temporarily  in  Naples,  and  also  a  niece, 
a  Mrs.  Elsie  Tray  ilia  ;  and  before  going  into  the 
fight  he  intrusted  to  me  a  small  package  directed 
to  her,  with  the  request  that,  if  he  fell,  I  would 
have  it  forwarded  to  her  when  an  opportunity 
offered.  "Will  you,  sir,  take  charge  of  it,  and 
see  that  it  reaches  the  lady's  hands  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  Wl 

"With  pleasure.     How  glad  she  will  be  to 
gsi  it,  for  she  loved  Walter  dearly." 
"  They  were  near  of  an  age  ?  " 
Yes ;  the  uncle  a  trifle  younger  than  the 


a 


"  Dinemore  and  I  were  together  almost  con- 
stantly during  the  last  six  months  of  his  life, 
and  became  very  intimate.  My  haversack^ 
Smith,  if  you  please,"  addressing  a  nurse. 

It  was  brought,  opened,  and  a  small  pack- 
age taken  from  it  and  given  to  Harold. 

He  gazed  upon  it  with  sad  thoughtfulness  for 
a  moment ;  then,  bestowing  it  safely  in  his  breast- 
pocket, "Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said,  "I 
will  deliver  it  -with,  my  own  hand,  if  she  returns 
from  Europe  u  soon  as  we  expect." 


Cjrajjter  ®foenf|Higj)% 


She  led  me  first  to  God  ; 

Ear  words  end  pr»yer»  wew  my  young  spirits  daw." 

— Johx  PruKPosrr. 


Elmgbove,  the  country-seat  of  the  elder  Mr. 
Allison,  had  never  looked  lovelier  than  on  a  beau- 
tiful June  morning  in  the  year  1865. 

The  place  had  been  greatly  improved  since 
Elsie's  first  Bight  of  it,  while  it  was  still  Rose's 
girlhood's  home  where  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his 
little  daughter  were  so  hospitably  entertained  for 
many  weeks. 

There  was  now  a  second  dwelling-house  on 
the  estate,  but  a  few  hundred  yards  distant  from 
the  first,  owned  by  Edward  Allison,  and  occupied 
by  himself,  wife,  and  children,  of  whom  there 
were  several. 

Our  friends  from  Naples  had  arrived  the 
night  before.  The  Dinsmores  were  domiciled 
at  the  paternal  mansion,  the  Travillas  with 
Edward  and  Adelaide. 

The  sun  was  not  yet  an  hour  high  as  Elsie 
gtcod  at  the  open  window  of  her  dressing-room, 


ELSIS'8  WOMANHOOD,  340 

looking  out  oyer  the  beautiful  grounds  to  the 
brook  beyond,  on  whose  grassy  banks,  years  ago} 
she  and  Harold  and  Sophie  had  spent  so  many 
happy  hours.  How  vividly  those  scenes  of  her 
childhood  rose  up  before  her  ! 

"  Dear  Harold  ! "  she  murmured,  with  a  slight 
sigh,  "  how  kind  he  always  was  to  me." 

She  could  not  think  of  him  without  pain, 
remembering  their  last  interview  and  his  present 
suffering.  She  had  not  seen  him  yet,  but  had 
learned  from  others  that  those  months  at  Ander- 
sonville  had  injured  hi3  health  so  seriously  that 
it  was  not  likely  ever  to  be  restored. 

"What  happy  children  we  were  in  those 
days,"  her  thoughts  ran  on ;  "  and  I  am  even 
happier  now,  my  treasures  have  so  increased  with 
the  rolling  years ;  but  they  !  what  bitter  trials 
they  are  enduring  ;  though  not  less  deserving  of 
prosperity  than  I,  who  am  but  a  miserable  sinner. 
But  it  is  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth." 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  little  hurrying 
feet,  entering  the  room,  and  glad  young  voices 
crying,  "  Good  morning,  dear  mamma  1"  broke 
in  upon  the  current  of  her  thoughts. 

"  Good  morning,  my  darlings,"  she  said,  turn- 
ing from  the  window  to  embrace  them.  "All 
w^U  and  bright !  Ah,  how  good  oar  heavenly 
Father  u  to  us  I " 

"  Yes,  niazama,  it  is  like  my  text,"  said  wo$ 


350  BLSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Elsie.  "  We  have  each  a  short  one  this  morning. 
Mine  is,  '  God  is  love.' " 

Mamma  had  sat  down  and  taken  Violet  on  hei 
lap,  while  Elsie  and  Eddie  stood  one  on  each  side. 

Three  lovelier  children  fond  mother  neve? 
looked  npon.  Elsie,  now  seven  years  old,  was  hei 
mother's  miniature.  Eddie,  a  bright  manly  boy 
of  five,  had  Mr.  Dinsmore's  dark  eyes  and  hair, 
arm  mouth  and  chin  ;  but  the  rest  of  his  features, 
and  the  expression  of  countenance,  were  those  of 
his  own  father.  Violet  resembled  both  her 
mother  and  the  grandmother  whose  name  she 
bore  ;  she  was  a  blonde,  with  exquisitely  fair 
complexion,  large  deep  blue  eyes,  heavily  fringed 
with  curling  lashes  several  shades  darker  than 
the  ringlets  of  pale  gold  that  adorned  the  pretty 
head. 

"  True,  beautiful  words,"  the  mother  said,  in 
reply  to  her  little  daughter ;  " '  God  is  love  ! ' 
Never  forget  it,  my  darlings ;  never  forget  to 
fchank  him  for  his  love  and  goodness  to  you; 
never  fear  to  trust  his  love  and  care.  Can  you 
tell  me,  dear,  of  some  of  his  good  gifts  to  you  ? ' 

"Our  dear,  kind  mamma  and  papa,"  answered 
Eddie  quickly,  leaning  affectionately  against  her, 
his  dark  eyes  lifted  to  her  face,  full  of  almost 
passionate  affection. 

"  Mammy  too,"  added  Violet. 

"  And  dear,  dear  grandpa  and  grandma  :  *&d 
oh,  80  many  more,"  said  Els2e« 


MLSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  852 

Bose  was  called  grandma  now,  by  her  own 
request 

"Yes,  de^r  grandpa  and  grandma*  and  so 
many  more,"  echoed  the  other  two. 

'*B«t  Jesus  the  best  gift  of  all,  mamma," 
continued  little  Elsie. 

"Yes,  my  precious  ones,"  returned  the 
mother,  in  moved  tones,  "Jesus  the  best  of  all ; 
for  he  loves  you  better  than  even  papa  and 
mamma  do,  and  though  they  should  be  far  away, 
he  is  ever  near,  ready  and  able  to  help  you, 
Now,  Eddie,  what  is  your  verse  ?  " 

"A  little  prayer,  mamma,  (  Lord  help  me.'" 

"  A  prayer  that  I  hope  will  always  be  in  my 
children's  hearts  when  trouble  comes,  or  they  are 
tempted  to  any  sin.  The  dear  Saviour  loves  to 
have  yon  cry  to  him  for  help,  and  he  will  give  it" 

"Now  Vi's  tex',  mamma,"  lisped  the  little 
one  on  her  knee.     "  'Jesus  wept* " 

"  "Why  did  Jesus  weep,  little  daughter  ?  " 

"  'Cause  he  so  tired  ?  so  sick  ?  naughty  niang 
so  cross  to  him  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  ;  it  was  not  for  any  sorrow  01 
trouble  of  his  own  that  Jesus  shed  those  tears. 
Can  you  tell  us  why  it  was,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  he  was  so  sorry  for  poor 
Martha  and  Mary,  'cause  their  brother  Lazarus 
was  dead." 

"  Yes,  and  for  all  the  dreadful  sufferings  and 
sorrows  that  sin   has   brought  into   the   world* 


252  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOu. 

We  are  not  told  that  Jesus  wept  for  Ms  own  trials 
and  pains ;  but  he  wept  for  others.  We  must 
try  to  be  like  him ;  to  bear  our  own  troubles 
patiently,  and  tc  feel  for  the  grief  and  pain  of 
other  people. 

"We  must  try  to  keep  these  thoughts  in  our 
hearts  all  the  day  long  :  that  God  is  love  ;  that 
Jesus  is  our  help  in  every  trouble  and  temptation, 
that  he  feels  for  us,  and  we  must  feel  for  others, 
and  do  what  we  can  to  make  them  happy.  Now 
we  will  kneel  down  and  ask  the  dear  Saviour  to 
help  us  to  do  this." 

The  prayer  was  very  short  and  simple ;  so 
that  even  Baby  Yi  could  understand  every 
word. 

There  was  a  moment's  quiet  after  they  had 
risen  from  their  knees  ;  then  the  children  went 
to  the  window  to  look  out  upon  the  grounds, 
wMch  they  had  hardly  seen  last  night. 

"Mamma!"  said  Elsie.  "I  see  a  brook 
away  over  yonder  ;  and  there  are  big  trees  there, 
and  Mce  green  grass.  Mamma,  is  that  where 
you  and  Aunt  Sophie  and  Uncle  Harold  used  to 
play  when  you  were  a  little  girl  ?  " 

"Yes,  daughter." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  please  tell  us  again  about  the 
tame  when  you  waded  in  the  brook,  and  thought 
you'd  lost  your  rings  ;  and  dear  grandpa  was  so 
kind  and  didn't  scold  or  punish  you  at  all." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  do  tell  it" 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  353 


a 


Please  mamma,  4o,"  joined  in  the  other  lit- 
tle voices  ;  and  mamma  kindly  complied. 

That  atory  finished,  it  was,  " Kow,  manima^ 
please  tell  another ;  please  tell  about  the  time 
when  you  wanted  to  go  with  the  school  children 
to  pick  strawberries,  and  grandpa  said  'No.'  " 

"  Ah,  I  was  rather  a  naughty  little  girl  thai 
time,  and  cried  because  I  couldn't  have  my  own 
way,"  answered  the  mother  musingly,  with  a 
dreamy  look  in  her  eyes  and  a  tender  smile  play- 
ing about  her  lips  as  she  almost  seemed  to  hear 
again  the  loved  tones  of  her  father's  voice,  and 
to  feel  the  clasp  of  his  arm  as  he  drew  her  to  his 
knee  and  laid  her  head  against  his  breast,  ask- 
ing, "  Which  was  my  little  daughter  doubting, 
this  afternoon — papa's  wisdom,  or  his  love  ?  " 

But  her  own  little  Elsie's  arm  had  stolen 
about  her  neck,  the  cherry  lips  were  pressed 
again  and  again  to  her  cheek,  and  the  sweet  child 
voice  repelled  the  charge  with  indignation. 

"Mamma,  you  couldn't  help  the  tears  coming 
when  you  were  so  disappointed  ;  and  that  was  alh 
You  didn't  say  one  naughty  word.  And  grandpa 
says  you  were  the  best  little  girl  he  ever  saw." 

"And  papa  says  just  the  same,"  added  a 
pleasant,  manly  voice  from  the  door,  as  Mr. 
Travilla  came  in,  closing  it  after  hirm 

Then  the  three  young  voices  joined  in  a  glad 
chorus,  "  Papa !  papa !  good-morning,  dear 
papa." 


854  BLBLE'8  WOMANHOOD. 

*  Good  morning  papa's  dear  pets,"  he  said, 
putting  his  arms  round  all  three  at  once,  as  they 
clustered  about  him,  and  returning  with  interest 
their  affectionate  caresses. 

"And  so  you  have  already  been  teasing  poor 
mamma  for  stories  ?  " 

"Did  we  tease  and  trouble  you,  mamma?" 
asked  Elsie,  a  little  remorsefully,  going  back  to 
her  mothers  side. 

"  No,  darling  ;  it  always  gives  me  pleasure  to 
gratify  my  dear  children  And,  papa,  they  have 
been  very  good." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it" 

"  Mamma  and  papa,  may  we  go  down  and 
play  by  that  brook  after  breakfast  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"And  wade  in  the  water  like  mamma  did 
when  she  was  a  little  girl  ?  "  added  Eddie. 

"Yes,  with  Uncle  Joe  and  Aunt  Chloe  to 
take  care  of  you  ;  if  mamma  is  willing,"  answered 
their  father. 

Mamma  said  yes,  too,  and  made  the  little 
hearts  quite  happy. 

They  returned  to  the  window,  and  presently 
gent  up  a  joyous  shout.  "  Grandpa,  our  dear 
grandpa,  is  coming  I  " 

"  Shall  I  go  down  and  bring  him  up  here, 
mamma  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"No,  dear,  we  will  go  down  to  grandpa,  and 
not  trouble  him  to  come  up.  Besides,  Auni 
Adelaide  wants  to  gee  him  as  well  as  we." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  Sdd 

"  Yes,  mamma's  plan  is  the  best,"  said  Mr. 
Travills,  giving  Elsie  one  hand  and  Eddie  the 
other,  while  his  wife  led  the  way  with  little 
Violet, 

They  found  Mr,  Dinsmore  in  the  lower  hall^ 
with  Adelaide  weeping  almost  hysterically  in  his 
arms, 

"You  are  the  only  brother  I  have  left,"  she 
sobbed.  "Poor,  poor  dear  Walter  and  Arthur  ! 
Oh,  that  dreadful,  dreadful  war  ! " 

He  caressed  and  soothed  her  with  tender 
words.  "  Dear  sister,  I  will  do  all  I  can  to 
make  up  their  loss  to  you.  And  our  father  is 
left  us ;  your  husband  spared,  too.  And  let  us 
not  forget  that  almighty  Friend,  that  Elder 
Brother  on  the  throne,  who  will  neyer  leave  or 
forsake  the  feeblest  one  who  trusts  in  Him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  I  know  !  He  has  been 
very  good  to  me  ;  but  I  must  weep  for  the  dear 
ones  gone — " 

"  And  He  will  not  chide  you — He  who  wept 
with  Martha  and  Mary  over  their  dead  brother." 

The  children  were  awed  into  silence  and  still- 
ness by  the  scene  ;  but  as  Adelaide  withdrew  her- 
self from  her  brother's  arms,  while  he  and  hei 
husband  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand  in  8 
cordial  greeting,  little  Elsie  drew  near  her,  and 
taking  gently  hold  of  her  hand,  dropped  upon 
it  a  kiss  and  a  sympathizing  tear. 

"  Darling  !  "  said  Adelaide,  stooping  to  fold 


356  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

the  child  in  her  arms  ;  then  looking  Qp  at  hex 
niece,  "  What  a  wonderful  likeness,  Elsie  I  I 
can  hardly  believe  it  is  not  yourself,  restored  to 
oa  as  you  were  at  her  age." 

The  morning  greetings  were  soon  exchanged, 
and  Adelaide  led  the  way  to  her  pleasant  sit- 
ting-room. 

"  What  is  the  latest  news  from  home,  Ade- 
laide ?  "  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  with  evident  anx- 
iety. "  I  have  not  heard  a  word  for  months 
past." 

"  I  had  a  long  letter  from  Lora  yesterday  ; " 
she  answered  ;  "  the  first  since  the  close  of  the  war. 
Her  eldest  son,  Ned,  and  Enna's  second  husband, 
were  killed  in  the  battle  of  Bentonville,  last 
March.  Lora's  husband  has  lost  an  arm,  one  of 
his  brothers  a  leg ;  the  others  are  all  killed,  and 
the  family  utterly  ruined. 

"  The  Oarringtons — father  and  sons — have  all 
fallen.  Sophie  is  here,  with  her  orphan  children ; 
her  mother-in-law,  with  her  own  daughter,  Lucy 
Ross.  Philip  has  escaped  unhurt.  They  will 
all  be  here  next  week  to  attend  May's  wedding. 

"Papa,  Louise — you  know  that  she  too  has 
lost  her  husband — and  Enna  are  all  at  the  Oaks ; 
for  Roselands  is  a  ruin,  Ion  not  very  much  better, 
Lora  says." 

"  And  the  Oaks  has  escaped  ?  " 

"  Yes,  almost  entirely ;  not  being  visit  le  from 
the  road.     Papa  sends  a  message  to  you.    He  is 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  35? 

too  heart-broken  to  write.  He  knows  lie  is 
welcome  in  your  house  ;  he  is  longing  to  see  yon, 
now  his  only  son — "  Adelaide's  voice  faltered,  and 
it  was  a  moment  ere  she  could  goon — "buth 
would  have  you  stay  away  till  September,  not 
risking  a  return  during  the  hottest  season  ;  andj 
ii  you  wish,  he  will  attend  to  the  plantation,  hir- 
ing blacks  to  work  it." 

"My  poor,  poor  old  father  l"  Mr.  Dinsniore 
exclaimed,  with  emotion.  "Welcome  in  my 
nouse  ?  If  I  had  but  a  dollar,  I  would  share  it 
with  him." 

"He  shall  never  want  a  home,  while  any  of 
us  live  ! "  sprang  simultaneously  from  the  lips  of 
Mr.  Allison  and  Mr.  Travilla. 

Adelaide  and  Elsie  were  too  much  moved  to 
epeak,  but  each  gave  her  husband  a  look  of 
grateful  affection. 

"Thank  you  both,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said, 
"  Adelaide,  I  shall  write  my  father  to-day.  Does 
Lora  say  that  he  is  well  ?  " 

Mrs.  Allison  could  hardly  speak  for  tears,  as 
she  answered,  "He  is  not  ill,  but  sadly  aged  by 
grief  and  care.  But  you  shall  read  the  letter  for 
yourself.  Stay  to  breakfast  with  us  (there's  the 
bell),  and  I'll  give  it  to  you  afterward." 

"  Thanks  ;  but  I  fear  they  may  wait  break- 
fast  for  me  at  the  other  house." 

"  No  ;  I  will  send  them  word  at  snce  that  we 
have  kept  you." 


358  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

There  was  an  effort  after  cheerfulness  aa  the^ 
gathered  about  tne  plentiful  board ;  but  to<i 
many  sad  thoughts  and  memories  had  been  called 
ap  in  the  hearts  of  the  elders  of  the  party  ■  and 
only  the  children  were  really  gay. 

Edward  Allison  was  pale  and  thin,  his  health 
haying  suffered  from  the  hardships  incident  to 
his  army  life. 

Elsie  remarked  it,  in  a  tone  of  grief  and  con- 
cern ;  but  he  answered  with  a  smile,  "  I  have 
escaped  so  much  better  than  many  others,  that  I 
haye  more  reason  for  thankfulness  than  com- 
plaint. I  am  hearty  and  robust  compared  to 
poor  Harold." 

A  look  of  deep  sadness  stole  over  his  face  as 
he  thus  named  his  younger  brother. 

Elsie  understood  it  when,  an  hour  later,  the 
elder  Mr.  Allison  entered  the  parlor,  where  she 
and  Adelaide  were  chatting  together,  with  Har- 
old leaning  on  his  arm. 

They  both  shook  hands  with  her,  the  old  gen- 
tleman saying,  "  My  dear,  I  am  rejoiced  to  have 
you  among  us  again  ; "  Harold  silently,  but  with 
a  sad,  wistful,  yearning  look  out  of  his  large 
bright  eyes,  that  filled  hers  with  tears. 

His  father  and  Adelaide  helped  mm  to  an 
easy  chair,  and  as  he  sank  back  pantingiy  upon 
its  cushions,  Elsie — completely  overcome  at 
sight  of  the  feeble,  wasted  frame,  and  wan, 
sunken  features — stole  quickly  from  the  room. 


jgLSIB'3  WOMANHOOD,  359 

Adelaide  followed,  to  find  her  in  the  sitting- 
Toom  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall,  weeping 
bitterly. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Adie,"  she  sobbed;  "  he's  dying  ! " 

"Yes,"  Adelaide  answered,  with  the  tean 
coursing  down  her  own  cheeks,  "we  all  know  it 
now ;  all  but  father  and  mother,  who  will  not 
give  up  hope*  Poor  May  !  hers  will  be  but  a 
sad  wedding.  She  would  have  put  it  off,  but  he 
begged  her  not,  saying  he  wanted  to  be  present 
and  to  greet  Duncan  as  his  brother — Duncan,  to 
whom  he  owed  so  much.  But  for  him,  you 
know,  Harold  would  hare  perished  at  Anderson- 
yille  ;  where,  indeed,  he  got  his  death." 

"No.  I  hare  heard  yerv  little  about  it." 

"  Then  Harold  will  tell  you  the  story  of  their 
escape.  Oh  I  Kose  dear,"  turning  quickly,  as 
Mrs.  Dinsmore  and  Mrs.  Carrington  entered, 
"how  kind  !  I  was  coming  to  see  you  directly, 
but  it  was  so  good  of  you  not  to  wait. " 

Elsie  was  saying,  "  Good  morning,  mamma,'' 
when  her  eye  fell  upon  the  other  figures.  Could 
it  be  Sophie  with  that  thin,  pale  face  and  large,  sad 
eyes  ?  Sophie  arrayed  in  widow's  weeds.  All  the 
pretty  golden  curls  hidden  beneath  the  widow's 
cap  ?  It  was  indeed,  and  the  next  instant  ths 
two  were  weeping  in  each  other's  arms. 

"  You  poor,  poor  dear  girl !  God  comfort 
you  ! "  Elsie  whispered. 

"He  does,  he  has  helped  me  to  live  for  nrf 


£60  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

children,  my  poor  fatherless  little  ones,"  Sophis 
said,  amid  her  choking  sobs. 

"  We  must  go  back  to  father  and  Harold,*' 
Adelaide  said  presently.  "  They  are  in  the  parlor, 
where  we  left  them  very  unceremoniously." 

"  And  Harold,  I  know,  is  longing  for  a  chat 
with  Elsie,"  Sophie  said. 

They  found  the  gentlemen  patiently  awaiting 
their  return.  "  Elsie  seated  herself  near  Harold, 
who,  somewhat  recovered  from  his  fatigue,  was 
now  able  to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 

"  You  were  shocked  by  my  changed  appear- 
ance ? "  he  said,  in  an  undertone,  as  their  eyes 
met  and  hers  filled  again.  "  Don't  mind  it,  I 
was  never  before  so  happy  as  now  ;  my  peace  is 
like  a  river — calm,  deep,  and  ever  increasing  as 
it  nears  the  ocean  of  eternity.  I'm  going  home  ! ,? 
And  his  smile  was  both  bright  and  sweet. 

"  Oh,  would  you  not  live — for  your  mother's 
sake  ?  and  to  work  for  your  Master  ?  " 

"  Gladly,  if  it  were  His  will ;  but  I  hear  Him 
saying  to  me,  '  Come  up  hither ' ;  and  it  is  a  joy- 
ful summons." 

"Harold,   when — "  her  voice  faltered,  but 
with    an  effort  she  completed  her    sentence — 
'  when  did  this  begin  ?  " 

"At  Andersonville;  I  was  in  perfect  health 
when  I  entered  the  army,"  he  answered  quickly, 
divining  the  fear  that  prompted  the  question  ; 
"  but  bad  air,  foul  water,  wretched  and  insufficient 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  361 

£ood,  rapidly  and  completely  undermined  m^ 
constitution.  Yet  it  is  sweet  to  die  for  one's 
country  !  I  do  not  grudge  the  price  I  pay  to 
secure  her  liberties." 

Elsie's  eyes  sparkled  through  her  tears, 
"  True  patriotism  still  lives  ! "  she  said.  "  Har- 
old, I  am  proud  of  you  and  your  brothers,  0; 
dear  Walter,  too ;  for  his  heart  wa3  right,  how- 
ever mistaken  his  head  may  have  been." 

"Walter  ?  oh,  yes,  and  I—" 

But  the  sentence  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  his  mother  and  sisters,  May  and  Daisy, 
Mr.  Dinsmore,  and  his  son  and  daughter.  Fresh 
greetings,  of  course,  had  to  be  exchanged  all 
round,  and  were  scarcely  finished  when  Mr.  Tra- 
villa  came  in  with  his  three  children. 

Elsie  called  them  to  her,  and  presented  them 
to  Harold  with  all  a  mother's  fond  pride  in  her 
darlings. 

"I  have  taught  them  to  call  you  Uncle 
Harold.     Do  you  object  ?" 

"  Object  ?  far  from  it ;  I  am  proud  to  claim 
them  as  my  nephew  and  nieces." 

He  gazed  with  tender  admiration  upon  each 
dear  little  face  ;  th^n,  drawing  the  eldest  to  him 
and  putting  an  arm  about  her,  said,  "  She  U 
just  ^hat  you  must  have  been  at  her  age,  Else  ; 
a  little  younger  than  when  you  first  came  tc 
Elmgrove.  And  she  bears  your  name  ?  n 
.6 


U%  ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Yes  ;  her  papa  and  mine  would  hear  of  no 
other  for  her." 

"I  like  to  have  mamma's  name,"  said  the 
child,  in  a  pretty,  modest  way,  looking  np  into 
nis  face.  "  Grandpa  and  papa  call  mamma  Elsie, 
and  me  wee  Elsie  and  little  Elsie,  and  sometime 
daughter.  Grandpa  calls  mamma  daughter  too? 
but  papa  calls  her  wife.  Mamma,  has  Uncle 
Harold  seen  baby  ?  " 

"  My  namesake  1  ah,  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"  There  is  mammy  on  the  porch  now,  with 
him  in  her  arms,"  cried  the  cliild. 

"  Go,  and  tell  her  to  bring  him  here,  daugh- 
ter," Elsie  said ;  and  the  little  girl  hastened 
to  obey. 

It  was  a  very  fine  babe,  and  Harold  looked  at 
it  with  interest. 

"I  am  proud  of  my  name-child,"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  mother  with  a  gratified  smile. 
"You  and  Mr.  Travilla  were  yery  kind  to  re- 
member me." 

The  latter,  who  had  been  engaged  in  the  ex- 
change of  salutations  with  the  others,  hearing 
his  name,  now  came  up  and  took  the  hand  of 
the  invalid  in  his.  He  was  much  moved  by  the 
sad  alteration  in  the  young  man,  who,  when  last 
seen  by  him,  was  in  high  health  and  spirits — the 
full  flush  of  early  manhood's  prime. 

Taking  a  seat  by  his  side,  he  inquired  with 
kindly  interest  how  he  has,  who  was  his  physi- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD  368 

cian,  and  if  there  had  been  any  improvement  in 
the  case  of  late. 

"  Thank  you,  no ;  rather  the  reverse,  * 
Harold  said,  in  answer  to  the  last  inquiry.  "  I 
ami  weaker  than  when  I  left  the  hospital. " 

"  Ah,  that  is  discouraging ;  still,  we  will 
hope  the  disease  may  yet  take  a  favorable  turn," 

"  That  is  what  my  parents  say,"  he  answered, 
with  a  grave,  sweet  smile  ;  "  and  though  I  have 
little  hope,  I  know  that  nothing  is  too  hard  for 
the  Lord,  and  am  more  than  willing  to  leave  it 
in  his  hands." 

"  Uncle  Harold,"  said  Elsie,  coming  to  the 
side  of  his  chair  and  looking  up  into  his  face 
with  eyes  full  of  tender  sympathy,  "I'm  so,  so 
sorry  for  you.  I'll  ask  Jesus  to  please  make  you 
well,  or  else  take  you  soon  to  the  happy  land 
where  you'll  never  have  any  more  pain." 

"Thank  you,  darling,"  he  said,  bending 
down  to  kiss  the  sweet  lips.  "I  know  the  dear 
Saviour  will  listen  to  your  prayer. " 

"You  used  to  play  with  my  mamma  when 
you  were  a  little  boy  like  me  ;  didn't  you,  Uncle- 
Harold  ? "  queried  Eddie,  coming  up  close  on 
the  other  side. 

u  Not  quite  so  small,  my  man,"  Harold  an- 
swered, laying  his  hand  gently  on  the  child's 
head,  Your  mamma  was  about  the  size  of  your 
Aunt  Rosie,  yonder,  and  I  some  three  or  four 
years  older. 


364  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"We've  been  down  to  ;:he  brook  where  you 
played  together — you  anl  mamma  and  Aunt 
Sophie,"  said  Elsie.  "  Papa  took  us,  and  I  think 
it's  a  lovely  place  to  play." 

"  Sophie  and  I  have  talked  over  those  de*r 
old  times  more  than  once,  of  late,"  Harold 
remarked,  turning  to  Mrs.  Travilla.  "It  does 
not  seem  so  very  long  ago,  and  yet — how  many 
changes !  how  we  are  changed  !  Well,  Rosie, 
what  is  it  ? "  for  she  was  standing  by  his  chair, 
waiting  with  eager  face  till  he  should  be  ready 
to  attend  to  her. 

"  Uncle  Harold,  do  you  feel  able  to  tell  us 
the  story  about  your  being  a  prisoner,  and  how 
you  got  free,  and  back  to  the  Union  army  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  persuasive  look  and  tone.  "  Papa 
and  mamma,  and  all  of  us  that  haTen't  heard  it, 
would  like  so  much  to  hear  it,  if  it  won't  tire  you 
to  talk  so  long." 

"  It  is  not  a  long  story  ;  and  as  my  lungs  are 
sound,  I  do  not  think  it  will  fatigue  me,  if  you 
will  all  come  near  enough  to  hear  me  in  my  ordi- 
nary tone  of  voice." 

They  drew  around  him,  protesting  against  his 
making  the  effort,  unless  fully  equal  to  it ;  as 
another  time  would  do  quite  as  well. 

"Thank  you  all,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  feel  able 
for  the  task,  and  shall  enjoy  gratifying  my  nieces 
and  nephews,  as  well  as  the  older  people." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  365 

He  then  proceeded  with  his  narrative  ;  ail  lis- 
tening with  deep  interest. 

Among  other  incidents  connected  with  his 
prison  life,  he  told  of  his  interview  with  Jackson, 
and  the  poor  wretch's  death  that  same  night. 

Elsie  shuddered  and  turned  pale,  yet  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief  as  she  laid  her  hand  in  that  of 
her  husband,  and  turned  a  loving,  grateful  look 
upon  her  father,  to  meet  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
with  an  expression  of  deep  thankfulness,  mingled 
with  the  sadness  and  awe  inspired  by  the  news 
of  the  miscreant's  terrible  end. 

Harold  spent  the  day  at  his  brother's,  and 
availed  himself  of  an  opportunity,  which  offered 
that  afternoon,  to  have  a  little  private  talk  with 
Elsie,  in  which  he  delivered  Walter's  packet, 
telling  her  how  it  came  into  his  hands. 

"Dear,  dear  Walter,"  she  said,  weeping,  "I 
have  so  wanted  to  know  the  particulars  of  his 
death,  and  am  so  thankful  to  heai  that  he  was  a 
Christian." 

"  His  friend  told  me  he  was  instantly  killed, 
so  was  spared  much  suffering." 

"lam  thankful  for  that.  I  will  open  thi? 
now  ;  you  will  like  to  see  the  contents." 

They  were  a  letter  from  Walter  to  her,  and 
two  photographs — both  excellent  and  striking 
likenesses  ;  one  of  her  in  her  bridal  robes,  the 
other  of  himself  in  his  military  dress. 

The  first  Elsie  threw  carelessly  aside,  as  of 


866  ELB1E'8  WOMANHOOD, 

little  worth  ;  the  other  she  held  long  in  hei 
hands  ;  gazing  intently  npon  it,  again  and  again 
wiping  away  the  fast-falling  tears. 

"It  is  his  own  noble,  handsome  face,"  she 
murmured.  "  Oh,  to  think  I  shall  not  see  it  again 
in  this  world  1  How  good  of  him  to  have  it 
taken  for  me  1 "  and  again  she  gazed  and  wept. 

Turning  to  her  companion  she  was  startled 
by  the  expression  of  mingled  love  and  anguish 
in  his  eyes,  which  were  intently  fixed  upon  the 
other  photograph  ;  he  having  taken  it  up  as  she 
threw  it  aside. 

f '  Oh  Harold  I "  she  moaned,  in  low,  agitated 
tones. 

He  sighed  deeply,  but  his  brow  cleared,  and  a 
look  of  peace  and  resignation  stole  oyer  his  face 
as  he  turned  his  eyes  on  her. 

"  I  think  there  is  no  sin  in  the  loye  I  bear 
you  now,  Elsie,"  he  said;  "I  rejoice  in  your 
happiness  and  am  willing  to  see  you  in  the  pos- 
session of  another  ;  more  than  willing,  since  I 
must  so  soon  pass  away.  But  it  was  not  always 
so  ;  my  loye  and  grief  were  hard  to  conquer, 
and  this — bringing  you  before  me  just  as  you 
were  that  night  that  gave  you  to  another  and 
made  my  love  a  sin — brought  back  for  a  moment 
the  anguish  that  wrung  my  heart  at  the  sight. * 

"  You  were  there,  then  ?  " 

"Yes;  just  for  a  few  moments.  I  found  I 
must  look  upon  the  scene,  though  it  broke  my 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  36? 

heart.  I  arrived  at  the  last  minute,  stood  in  the 
shadow  of  the  door-way  during  the  ceremony, 
saw  you  look  np  toward  me  at  its  conclusion, 
then  turned  and  fled  from  the  house  ;  fearful  of 
being  recognized  and  forced  to  betray  my  secret 
which  I  felt  I  could  not  hide. 

"But  don't  weep  for  me,  dear  friend,  my 
sorrow  and  disappointment  proved  blessings  in 
disguise,  for  through  them  I  was  brought  to  a 
saying  knowledge  of  Him 

*  *  whom  my  soul  desires  above 
All  earthly  joy  or  earthly  lore.' " 

"  And  oh,  Harold,  how  infinitely  more  is  His 
ioTe  worth  than  mine  ! " 

But  her  eye  fell  upon  Walter's  letter  lying 
forgotten  in  her  lap.  She  took  it  up,  glanced 
over  it,  then  read  it  more  carefully,  pausing  often 
to  wipe  away  the  blinding  tears.  As  she  finished, 
Mr.  Travilla  came  in. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  Walter,  Edwarl,"  she 
said,  in  tremulous  tones,  as  she  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Then  'the  report  of  hi3  death  was  untrue  ?  " 
he  exclaimed  inquiringly,  a  glad  look  coming 
into  his  face. 

"  Only  too  true,"  she  answered,  with  a  fresh 
burst  of  tears  ;  and  Harold  briefly  explained. 

"  Shall  I  read  it  aloud,  wife  ?"  Mr.  Travilla 
asked, 

"  If  Harold  cares  to  hear,     There  \a  no  secret  * 


368  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"I  should  like  it  greatly,"  Harold  said;  and 
Mr.  Travilla  read  it  to  him,  while  Elsie  moved 
away  to  the  farther  side  of  the  room,  her  heart 
filled  with  a  strange  mixture  of  emotions,  in 
which  grief  was  uppermost. 

The  letter  was  filled  chiefly  with  an  account 
of  the  writer's  religious  experience.  Since  his 
last  visit  to  the  Oaks  he  had  been  constantly 
rejoicing  in  the  love  of  Christ,  and  now,  expect- 
ing, as  he  did,  to  fall  in  the  coming  "battle,  death 
had  no  terrors  for  him.  And  he  owed  this,  he 
said,  in  great  measure  to  the  influence  of  his 
brother  Horace  and  Elsie,  especially  to  the  beau- 
iful  consistency  of  her  Christian  life  through  all 
the  years  he  had  known  her. 

Through  all  her  grief  and  sadness,  what  joy 
and  thankfulness  stirred  in  her  breast  at  that 
thought.  Very  humble  and  unworthy  she  felt ; 
but  oh,  what  gladness  to  learn  that  her  Master 
had  thus  honored  her  as  an  instrument  in  his 
hands. 

The  door  opened  softly,  and  her  three  little 
ones  came  quietly  in  and  gathered  about  her. 
They  had  been  taught  thoughtfulness  for  others  : 
Uncle  Harold  was  ill,  and  they  would  not  dis- 
turb him. 

Leaning  confidingly  on  her  lap,  lifting  loving, 
trustful  eyes  to  her  face,  "  Mamma,"  they  said, 
low  and  softly,  "  we  have  had  our  supper  j  will 
you  come  with  us  now  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  369 

**Yes,  dear,  presently." 

"Mamma,"  whispered  little  Elsie,  with  a 
wistful,  tender  gaze  into  the  soft  sweet  eyes  still 
swimming  in  tears,  "dear  mamma,  something 
has  made  yon  sorry.  What  can  I  do  to  ccmfort 
yon?" 

"  Love  me,  darling,  and  be  good  ;  yon  are 
mamma's  precions  little  comforter.  See  dears," 
and  she  held  the  photograph  so  that  all  conld 
haye  a  view,  "it  is  dear  Uncle  Walter  in  his 
soldier  dress."    A  big  tear  rolled  down  her  cheek, 

u  M^mma,"  Elsie  said  quickly,  "how  good 
he  looks  1  and  he  is  so  happy  where  Jesus  is." 

"  Yes,  daughter,  we  need  shed  no  tears  for 
him." 

"Dear  Uncle  Walter,"  "Poor  Uncle  Wal 
ter  ! "  the  other  two  were  saying. 

"  There,  papa  has  finished  reading  ;  go  now 
and  bid  good-night  to  him  and  Uncle  Harold," 
their  mother  said  ;  and  they  hastened  to  obey. 

They  climbed  their  father's  knees  and  hung 
about  his  neck  with  the  most  confiding  affection,, 
while  he  caressed  them  oyer  and  oyer  again,  Har- 
old looking  on  with  glistening  eyes. 

"  Now  some  dood  fun,  papa :  toss  Vi  up  in 
oo  arms,"  said  the  little  one,  expecting  the  usual 
game  of  romp3. 

"  Not  to-night,  pet ;  some  other  time.  An- 
other sweet  kiss  for  papa,  and  now  one  for  Uncls 
Harold." 

16* 


370  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

u  Aiter  fonr  years  of  camp,  prison,  and  hos- 
pital life,  it  is  a  yery  pleasant  change  to  be 
among  the  children,"  Harold  said,  as  the  door 
closed  upon  Elsie  and  her  little  flock. 

"  I  feared  their  noise  and  perpetual  motion 
might  disturb  you,"  Mr.  Trayilla  answered. 

"  Not  at  all ;  yours  are  not  boisterous,  and 
their  pretty  ways  are  yery  winning." 

Aunt  Chloe  and  Dinah  were  in  waiting,  and 
soon  had  the  three  small  figures  robed  each  in  its 
white  night-dress. 

Then  mamma — seated  upon  a  sofa  with  little 
Violet  on  her  lap,  the  other  two,  one  on  each 
side — was  quite  at  their  disposal  for  the  next  half 
hour  or  so  ;  ready  to  listen  or  to  talk  ;  her  sweet 
sympathy  and  tender  loye  encouraging  them  to 
open  all  their  young  hearts  to  her,  telling  her  of 
any  little  joy  or  sorrow,  trouble,  yeiation,  or  per- 
plexity. 

"  Well,  darlings,  haye  you  remembered  your 
yerses  and  our  little  talk  about  them  this  morn- 
ing ?  "  the  mother  asked.  "  Elaie  may  speak 
first,  because  she  is  the  eldest." 

"Mamma,  I  haye  thought  of  them  many 
times,"  answered  the  sweet  child  yoice  ;  "  we  had 
a  nice,  nice  walk  with  papa  this  morning,  and 
the  little  birds,  the  brook,  and  the  trees,  and  the 
pretty  flowers  and  the  beautiful  blue  sky  all 
seemed  to  say  to  me,  •  God  is  loye. '  Then  mamma, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  871 

once  I  vi&s  tempted  to  be  naughty,,  and  I  said  in 
my  heart,  '  Lord,  help  me,'  and  Jesus  heard  me/' 

"Whac  was  it,  dear  ?" 

"  We  had  a  little  tea  party,  mamma,  with  our 
cousins,  out  under  the  trees,  and  there  was  pie 
and  very  rich  cake — " 

"  And  'serves,"  put  in  Eddie. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  and  preseiTes  too,  and  they 
looked  so  good,  and  I  wanted  some,  hut  I  remem- 
bered that  you  and  papa  don't  let  us  eat  those 
things  because  they  would  make  us  sick.  So  I 
said  i  Lord,  help  me  ; '  and  then  I  felt  so  glad  and 
happy,  thinking  how  Jesus  loves  me." 

"My  darling  !  he  does,  indeed,"  the  mother 
said,  with  a  gentle  kiss. 

"And  Eddie  was  good,  and  said,  '  No,  thank 
you ;  mamma  and  papa  don't  let  us  eat  'serves 
and  pie.' " 

"  Mamma's  dear  boy,"  and  her  hand  passed 
softly  over  the  curly  head  resting  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Mamma,  I  love  you  ;  I  love  you  so  much/' 
he  said,  hugging  her  tight;  "and  dear  papa, 
too ;  and  Jesus.  Mamma,  I  wanted  to  be 
naughty  once  to  day  when  one  o'  zese  cousins 
took  away  my  own  new  whip  that  papa  buyed 
for  me  ;  but  I  remembered  I  mustn't  be  selfish 
and  cross,  and  I  said  my  little  prayers  jus'  in  my 
heart,  mamma — and  Jesus  did  help  me  to  be 
good." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  son,  and  he  will  always  help 


872  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

you  when  yon  asu  him.  And  now,  what  has  Vi 
to  tell  mamma  ?  " 

"  Vi  naughty  girl  one  tim.6,  mamma :  ky 
'cause  she  didn't  want  mammy  wash  face  and 
brash  curls.  Vi  solly  now;"  and  the  golden 
head  dropped  upon  mamma's  breast. 

"  Mamma's  dear  baby  must  try  and  be  patient ; 
mamma  is  sure  she  will,  and  Jesus  will  help  her 
if  she  asks  him,  and  forgive  her,  if  she  is  sorry 
for  being  naughty,"  the  mother  said,  with  a  ten- 
der caress.     "  Now  let  us  sing, '  Jesus  lores  me.' " 

The  child  voices  blended  very  sweetly  with 
the  mother's  as  they  sang  in  concert ;  then  she 
told  them  a  Bible  story,  heard  each  little  prayer, 
saw  them  laid  in  their  beds,  gave  each  a  tendei 
good-night  kiss,  and  left  them  to  their  rest. 

Passing  into  her  dressing-room,  she  found  hei 
husband  there,  pacing  thoughtfully  to  and  fro. 
At  sight  of  her  a  smile  irradiated  his  whole 
countenance,  while  his  arms  opened  wide  to 
receive  her. 

"  My  dear,  dear  husband  !  "  she  said,  laying 
her  head  on  his  shoulder,  while  he  folded  her 
to  his  heart,  "  how  bravely  you  bear  trials  ;  how 
patient  and  cheerful  you  always  are  under  all 
circumstances." 

"  Not  more  so  than  my  little  wife  ;  we  have 
heard  much  saddening  news  to-day,  love ;  but 
most  of  it  such  as  to  make  us  weep  for  our  friends 
and  neightxxrg  rather  than  for  ourselves." 


SLSIE'S  WOMAKEOOD.  373 

"  That  is  true ;  our  losses  are  slight,  very 
slight,  compared  with  those  of  multitudes  of 
others  ;  and  yet  it  must  sadden  your  heart  to 
know  that  your  dear  old  home  is  in  ruins." 

"  Yes,  wife,  it  does  ;  but  I  were  an  ungrate 
ful  wretch  to  murmur  and  repine,  had  I  lost 
everything  but  you  and  our  four  treasures  in 
yonder  room  :  but  you  are  all  spared  to  me,  slid 
I  am  by  no  means  penniless  yet." 

"  Yery  far  from  it,  my  own  noble  husband,  ** 
she  answered,  with  a  look  of  proud,  loying  admi- 
ration ;  "  for  all  I  haye  is  yours  as  much  as  niine.n 

"  Thanks,  dearest ;  I  am  not  too  proud  tc 
accept  your  assistance,  and  we  will  build  up  the 
old  home  and  make  it  lovelier  than  ever,  for 
ourselves  and  for  our  children ;  what  a  pleasant 
work  it  will  be  to  make  it  as  nearly  as  possible 
an  earthly  paradise  for  them." 

"  Yes  ;  "  she  said,  smiling  brightly,  "  the 
cloud  has  a  silver  lining." 

"As  all  our  clouds  have,  dearest." 

"Yes;  for  'we  know  that  all  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God  ! '  But 
oh,  Edward,  what  an  awful  end  was  Jackson's  »  1 
shudder  to  think  of  it !  and  yet — oh,  I  fear  it  is 
not  right — but  I  cannot  help  feeling  it  a  relief  to 
know  that  he  is  dead.  Even  in  Europe,  I  could 
not  divest  myself  of  the  fear  that  he  might  turn 
up  unexpectedly,  and  attempt  the  lives  of  my 
dear  ones," 


374  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  It  is  a  relief  to  me  also,  and  not  wrong,  1 
think,  to  feel  it  so  ;  for  we  do  not  rejoice  in  hia 
destruction,  but  would  have  saved  him,  if  we 
could.  Has  not  the  news  of  Walter  comforted 
you  in  some  measure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  oh  yes  ;  the  dear,  dear  fellow  !  You 
have  not  seen  this,"  she  added,  taking  the  pho- 
tograph from  her  pocket. 

"  No ;  it  is  a  striking  likeness,  and  you  will 
value  it  highly." 

"  Indeed  I  shall.  Ah,  how  strange  it  will  be 
to  go  home  and  not  find  him  there," 


djjj^ter  Ckutg-iunt|. 


O  TTar  I— wk*t.  wh&v  jrft  taoa  T 
At  sac*  the  proof  aad  *ooargs  of  else's  fallea  state." 

— Bxekah  JCohs. 


Sichaed  Allison  had  gone  to  Lansdale  foi 
his  bride  a  fortnight  ago  ;  they  were  now  taking 
their  bridal  trip  and  expected  to  reach  Elmgrove 
a  day  or  two  before  the  wedding  of  May  and 
Harry  Duncan.  The  latter  would  bring  Aunt 
Wealthy  with  him,  and  leave,  her  for  a  short  visit 
among  her  friends. 

Sophie's  mother  and  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Car- 
rington,  and  Lucy  Ross,  came  earlier,  arriving 
only  two  days  after  our  party  from  Europe. 

There  was  great  pleasure,  yet  mingled  with 
profound  sadness,  in  the  meeting  of  these  old  and 
dear  friends.  Lucy  and  her  mother  were  in  deep 
mourning,  and  in  Mrs.  Carrington's  countenance 
Christian  resignation  blended  with  heart-break- 
ing sorrow  ;  grief  and  anxiety  had  done  the  work 
of  a  score  of  years,  silvering  her  hair  and  plough- 
ing deep  furrows  in  the  face  that  five  yearg  ago 
was  still  fresh  and  fair. 


376  ELHIE'B  WOMANHOOD. 

Mr.  Travilla  had  taken  wife  and  children  foi 
a  morning  drive,  and  on  their  return,  Adelaide, 
meeting  them  at  the  door,  said  to  her  niece, 
"  They  have  come,  they  are  in  ilrs.  Carrington's 
dressing-room;  and  she  begs  that  you  will  go 
and  meet  her  there.  She  has  always  loved  you 
00  dearly,  and  I  know  is  longing  for  yonr  sym- 
pathy." " 

Elsie,  waiting  only  to  lay  aside  hat  and 
gloves,  hastened  to  grant  the  request  of  the  gentle 
lady  for  whom  she  cherished  almost  a  daughter's 
affection. 

She  found  her  alone.  They  met  silently, 
clasping  each  other  in  a  long,  tearful  embrace, 
Mrs.  Carrington's  sobs  for  many  minutes  the 
only  sound  that  broke  the  stillness  of  the  room. 

"  I  have  lost  all,"  she  said  at  length,  as  they 
released  each  other  and  sat  down  side  by  side 
upon  a  sofa  ;  "  all :  husband,  sons,  home — " 

Sobs  choked  her  utterance,  and  Lucy  coming 
hastily  in  at  the  open  door  of  the  adjoining  room, 
dropped  on  her  knees  by  her  mother's  side,  and 
taking  one  thin,  pale  hand  in  hers,  said  tearfully, 
*'  Not  all,  dear  mamma  ;  you  have  me,  and  Phil, 
and  the  children." 

i(Me  too,  mother  dear,  and  your  Harry's 
children,"  added  Sophie,  who  had  followed  her 
sister,  and  now  knelt  with  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear  daughters,  I  was  wrong  :  I 
have  lost  much,  but  have   many  blessings  still 


ELSIE'S  WOMANEOOB.  Wt 

left  .  your  lore  not  the  least ;  and  my  grand* 
child  ien  are  scarcely  less  dear  than  my  own, 
L^cy,  dear,  here  is  Elsie." 

"Yes,  our  own  dear,  darling  Elsie,  scarcely 
changed  at  all ! "  Lucy  cried,  springing  up  to 
greet  her  friend  with  a  warm  embrace. 

A  long  talk  followed,  Mrs.  Carrington  and 
Sophie  giving  their  experiences  of  the  war  and  its 
results,  to  which  the  others  listened  with  deep 
interest. 

"  Thank  God  it  is  oyer  at  last ! "  concluded 
the  elder  lady  ;  "  and  oh,  may  He,  in  his  great 
goodness  and  mercy,  spare  us  a  repetition  of  it. 
Oh,  the  untold  horrors  of  civil  war — strife  among 
brethren  who  should  know  nothing  but  love  for 
each  other  —  none  can  imagine  but  those  who 
have  passed  through  them  !  There  was  fault  on 
both  sides,  as  there  always  is  when  people  quar- 
rel. And  what  has  been  gained  ?  Immense 
loss  of  property,  and  of  far  more  precious  lives, 
an  exchange  of  ease  and  luxury  for  a  hard  strag- 
gle with  poverty." 

"  But  it  is  over,  dear  mother,  and  the  North 
will  help  the  South  to  recuperate,"  said  Lucy. 
"  Phil  says  so,  and  I've  heard  it  from  others  too  ; 
just  as  soon  as  the  struggle  ended,  people  were 
saying,  '  Now  they  have  given  up,  the  Union  is 
safe,  and  we're  sorry  for  them  and  will  do  all  we 
can  to  help  them  ;  for  they  are  our  own  people.' n 

"  Yes,  I  have  beeri  most  agreeably  surprised 


378  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

at  the  kind  feeling  here,"  her  mother  answered  i 
"  nobody  has  had  a  hard  word  to  say  of  us,  so  far 
as  I  haye  been  able  to  learn ;  and  I  have  seen 
nothing  like  exultation  oyer  a  fallen  foe  ;  but  on 
the  contrary  there  seems  a  desire  to  lend  us  a 
helping  hand  and  set  us  on  our  feet  again. " 

"  Indeed,  mother,  I  assure  you  that  is  so,"* 
said  Sophie. 

"And  all  through  the  war,"  added  Lucy, 
"there  was  but  little  hard  feeling  toward  the 
people  of  the  South  ;  '  deceived  and  betrayed  by 
their  leaders,  they  are  more  to  be  pitied  than 
blamed/  was  the  opinion  commonly  expressed  by 
those  who  stood  by  the  government." 

"  And  papa  says  there  will  be  no  confiscation 
of  property,"  Sophie  said,  "unless  it  may  be 
merely  that  of  the  leaders  ;  and  that  he  will  help 
us  to  restore  Ashlands  to  what  it  was  :  so  you 
will  haye  your  own  home  again,  mother." 

"  How  generous !  I  can  never  repay  the 
obligation,"  Mrs.  Carrington  said,  in  a  choking 
voice. 

"  But  you  need  not  feel  overburdened  by  it, 
dear  mother.  It  is  for  Herbert,  you  know,  his 
3wn  grandson." 

"  And  mine  !  Ah,  this  news  fills  me  with  joy 
and  gratitude." 

"Yes,  I  feel  papa's  kindness  very  much," 
Sophie  said,  "  and  hope  my  son  will  never  give 
him  cause  to  regret  it." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  379 

Elsie  rose.  "I  hear  my  baby  crying,  and 
know  that  he  wants  hi3  mother.  Dear  Mrs. 
Oarr  ington,  you  are  looking  yery  weary ;  and  it 
is  more  than  an  hour  yet  to  dinner  time ;  will 
you  not  lie  down  and  rest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  afterward  you  must  show  me  you 
children.     I  want  to  see  them." 

"  Thank  you ;  I  shall  do  so  with  much 
pleasure,"  the  young  mother  answered  smilingly, 
as  she  hastened  from  the  room ;  for  Baby  Har- 
old's cries  were  growing  importunate. 

This  was  the  regular  hour  for  Eddie  and  Vi 
to  take  a  nap,  anr1  Elsie  found  them  lying 
quietly  in  their  little  bed,  while  the  scream- 
ing babe  stoutly  resisted  the  united  efforts  of 
his  elder  sister  and  Aunt  Chloe  to  pacify  and 
amuse  him. 

"  Give  him  to  me,  mammy,"  she  said,  seating 
herself  by  the  open  window ;  "  it  is  his  mother 
he  wants." 

Little  Elsie,  ever  concerned  for  her  mother's 
happiness,  studied  the  dear  face  intently  for  a 
moment,  and  seeing  the  traces  of  tears,  drew 
near  and,  putting  an  arm  about  her  neck,  "  Mam- 
ma," she  said  tenderly,  "dear  mamma,  what 
troubles  you  ?    May  I  know  about  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Travilla  explained  briefly,  telling  of 
Mrs.  Carrington's  trials,  and  of  those  of  other 
old  friends  and  neighbors  in  the  South. 

"  Mamma,"  said  the  child,  with  eyas  rilled  to 


380  BL.B1E  8  WOMANHOOD. 

overflowing,  "I  am  yery  sorry  for  them  all,  and 
for  yon.  Mamma,  it  is  like  Jesns  to  shed  tears 
for  other  people's  troubles ;  but,  mamma,  I 
think  it  is  too  much  ;  there  are  60  many,  it  makes 
yon  sorry  all  the  time,  and  I  can't  bear  it." 

The  mother's  only  answer  was  a  silent  caress, 
and  the  child  went  on  :  "I  hope  nobody  else  will 
come  with  such  sad  stories  to  make  yon  cry.  la 
there  anybody  else  to  do  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"I  think  not,  dear;  there  are  only  Aunt 
Wealthy,  who  has  not  lost  any  near  friend  lately, 
and — Why  there  she  is  now  !  the  dear  old  soul ! * 
she  broke  off  joyously,  for  at  that  instant  a  car- 
riage, which  she  had  been  watching  coming  up 
the  drive,  drew  up  before  the  door,  and  a  young 
gentleman  and  a  little  old  lady  alighted. 

Aunt  Chloe  took  the  babe,  and  Elsie  hastened 
down  to  meet  her  aunt,  her  little  daughter  fol- 
lowing. 

To  the  child's  great  relief  it  was  an  altogether 
joyous  greeting  this  time ;  both  Miss  Stanhope, 
and  her  escort,  Harry  Duncan,  were  looking 
very  happy,  which  caused  her  to  regard  them 
with  much  satisfaction,  and  the  kisses  asked  o! 
her  wero  given  very  readily. 

"Were  you  expecting  us  to-day,  Mrs.  Alli- 
son ?  "  Harry  asked,  turning  to  Adelaide. 

"  Yes  ;  I  received  your  telegram." 

"  Business  hurried  us  off  two  days  sooner  than 
we  expected,"  said  Miss  Stanhope.     "I  would 


ELSIE' 8  WOMANHOOD.  381 

have  written,  "but  was  so  very  busy  witn  papers 
and  painterers  doing  the  house  all  up  new ;  and 
putting  down  new  curtains,  and  tacking  up  new 
carpets,  till,  Elsie,  the  old  place  would  hardly 
know  you, " 

The  old  lady's  heart  was  evidently  full  to 
overflowing,  with  happiness  at  the  prospect  of 
seeing  May  installed  as  future  mistress  in  the 
pretty  cottage  at  Lansdale, 

Yet  there  was  no  lack  of  sympathy  in  the 
sorrows  or  joys  of  others  ;  she  wept  with  them 
all  oyer  their  losses  past  and  prospective  ;  for  she, 
too,  saw  that  Harold  must  soon  pass  away  from 
earth,  and  while  rejoicing  with  him,  when  she 
learned  how  gladly  he  would  obey  the  summons, 
her  heart  yet  bled  for  those  to  whom  he  was 
so  dear, 

Richard  and  his  bride  arrived  in  due  season. 
The  latter  had  lost  no  near  relative  by  the  war, 
and — to  wee  Elsie's  delight — the  meeting  between 
"  Aunt  Lottie  and  mamma,"  seemed  one  of  unal- 
loyed pleasure. 

Unlike  those  of  her  older  sisters,  May's  was  a 
private  wedding — none  but  the  family  and  a  few 
near  relatives  and  connections  being  present 
Though  deeply  attached  to  Harry,  and  trusting 
him  fully,  much  of  sadness  was  unavoidably 
mingled  with  her  happiness  as  she  prepared  for 
her  bridal.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  as  she 
thought  of  Fred  in  his  soldier  grave,  Harold  soon 


S82  ELSIE' 8  WOMANUOOD. 

to  follow,  and  SopiJe — whose  had  been  the  last 
wedding  in  the  paternal  home,  and  bo  gay  and 
joyous  a  one — now  in  her  widow's  weeds  and 
well-nigh  broken-hearted, 

"Mine  will  not  be  a  gay  bridal,"  May  had 
said,  in  arranging  her  plans ;  "  and  I  will  just 
wear  my  travelling  suit. " 

But  Harold  objected,  "  No,  no,  May ;  1 
want  to  see  you  dressed  as  Rose  and  Sophie  were — 
in  white,  with  veil  and  orange  blossoms.  Why 
shouldn't  your  beauty  be  set  oS  to  the  best 
advantage  as  well  as  theirs,  even  though  only 
the  eyes  of  those  who  love  you  will  look  upon  it  ?  " 

And  so  it  was ;  for  Harold's  wishes  were 
sacred  now. 

They  were  married  in  the  morning ;  and  after 
a  sumptuous  breakfast  the  bridal  attire  was  ex- 
changed for  the  travelling  suit,  and  the  new-made 
husband  and  wife  set  out  upon  their  wedding 
trip.  It  was  very  sad  for  poor  May  to  leave,  not 
only  childhood's  home,  parents,  and  bi  others  and 
sisters  whose  lease  of  life  seemed  as  likely  to  be 
long  as  her  own,  but  to  part  from  the  dying  one 
to  whom  she  was  most  tenderly  attached. 

But  Harry  promised  to  bring  her  back ;  and 
she  was  to  be  immediately  summoned,  in  case  oi 
any  marked  unfavorable  change  in  the  invalid. 

Then,  too,  Harold  was  so  serenely  happy  in 
the  prospect  before  him,  and  talked  so  constantly 
af  it  as  only  going  home  a  little  while  before  the 


ELSIE'B  WOMANHOOD.  383 

rest,  and  of  how  at  length  all  would  be  reunited 
in  that  better  land,  to  spend  together  an  eternity 
of  bliss,  that  it  had  robbed  death  of  half  its 
gloom  and  terror. 

It'  was  Harold's  earnest  desire  that  all  his  dear 
ones  should  be  as  gay  and  happy  as  though  he 
vvere  in  health;  he  would  not  willingly  cast  a 
shadow  oyer  the  pathway  of  any  of  them,  for  a 
day ;  especially  the  newly  married,  whose  honey- 
moon, he  said,  ought  to  be  a  very  bright  spot  f  oa 
them  to  look  back  upon  in  all  after  years. 

So  Lottie  felt  it  right  to  let  her  heart,  swell 
with  gladness  in  the  new  love  that  crowned  her 
life  ;  and  the  time  passed  cheerfully  and  pleas- 
antly to  the  guests  at  Elmgrove. 

Mrs.  Eoss  and  her  mother,  and  Miss  Stanhope- 
remained  for  a  fortnight  after  the  wedding.  Ail 
were  made  to  feel  themselves  quite  at  home  in 
both  houses  ;  the  two  families  were  much  like 
one,  and  usually  spent  their  evenings  together,  in 
delightful  social  intercourse ;  Harold  in  their 
midst  on  his  couch,  or  reclining  in  an  easy  chair, 
an  interested  listener  to  the  talk  and  occasionally 
joining  in  it. 

One  evening  when  they  were  thus  gathered 
about  him,  Mrs.  Camngton,  looking  compassion- 
ately upon  the  pale,  patient  face,  remarked, 
u  You  suffer  a  great  deal,  Captain  Allison  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  good  deal,"  he  answered  cheerfully, 
u  but  not  more  than  I  can  easily  endure,  remem 


S-84  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

bering  that  it  is  'whom  the  Lord  loveth  ha 
chasteneth.'" 

"  You  take  a  very  Christian  view  of  it ;  but 
do  jour  sufferings  arouse  no  bitterness  of  feel- 
ing toward  the  South  ?  " 

"Oh,  no!"  he  answered,  earnestly,  "  why 
should  they  ?  The  people  of  the  South  were  not 
responsible  for  what  was  done  at  Andersonville ; 
perhaps  the  Confederate  government  was  so  only 
in  a  measure  ;  and  Wirtz  was  a  foreigner.  Be- 
sides, there  was  a  great  deal  endured  by  rebel 
prisoners  in  some  of  our  Northern  prisons. 
"Father,"  turning  to  the  elder  Mr.  Allison, 
"  please  tell  Mrs.  Carrington  about  your  visit  to 
Elmira." 

The  others  had  been  chatting  among  them- 
selves, but  all  paused  to  listen  as  Mr.  Allison 
began  his  narrative. 

"We  learned  that  a  young  relative  of  my 
wife  was  confined  there,  and  ill.  I  went  at  once 
to  see  what  could  be  done  for  him,  and  finding 
the  prison  in  charge  of  a  gentleman  who  was 
under  much  obligation  to  me,  gained  admittance 
without  much  difficulty.  It  was  a  wretched 
place,  and  the  prisoners  were  but  poorly  fed ; 
which  was  far  more  inexcusable  here  than  at  the 
South,  where  food  was  scarce  in  their  own  army 
and  among  the  people." 

"  I  know  that  to  have  been  the  case,"  said 
Mis.  Carringtom   "  The  farmers  were  not  allowed 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  38d 

to  make  use  of  their  grain  for  their  own  families, 
till  a  certain  proportion  had  been  taken  for  the 
army  ;  and  there  were  families  among  us  who  did 
not  taste  meat  for  a  year." 

"  Yes  ;  the  war  has  been  hard  for  us,  but  far 
harder  upon  them.  I  found  our  young  friend  in 
a  yery  weak  state.  I  succeeded  in  getting  per 
mission  to  remove  him  to  more  comfortable  quar- 
ters, and  did  so  ;  but  he  lived  scarcely  two  dayg 
after." 

c '  How  yery  sad,"  remarked  Elsie,  with  emo- 
tion.    "  Oh,  what  a  terrible  thing  is  war  ! " 

"Especially  ciyil  war,"  said  the  elder  Mrs. 
Allison  ;  "  strife  among  brethren  ;  its  fruits  are 
bitter,  heart-rending." 

"  And  being  all  one  people  there  was  equal 
bravery,  talent,  and  determination  on  both  sides  ; 
which  made  the  struggle  a  very  desperate  one," 
said  Harold. 

"  And  the  military  tic-tacs  were  the  same," 
added  Aunt  "Wealthy  ;  "  and  then  speaking  the 
same  language,  and  looking  so  much  alike,  foes 
were  sometimss  mistaken  for  friends,  and  ver- 
sa-vice." 

"A  brother-in-law  of  Louise's  was  confined  in 
Fort  Delaware  for  some  months,"  said  Adelaide, 
addressing  her  brother,  "  and  wrote  to  me  for  some 
articles  of  clothing  he  needed  badly,  adding,  '  If 
you  could  send  me  something  to  eat,  it  would  bo 
17 


386  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

most  thankfully  received.'  I  sent  twice,  fcat 
neither  package  eYer  reached  him." 

u  Too  bad  !  too  bad  !  "  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  , 
- '  yet  very  likely  it  was  through  no  fault  of  the 
government." 

"  No  ;  I  am  satisfied  that  individuals — selfish, 
unscrupulous  men  of  whom  there  were  far  too 
many  on  both  sides,  were  the  real  culprits,  and  that 
the  government  intended  every  prisoner  should 
be  made  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would 
permit,"  said  Mr.  Allison.  "  But  there  are  men 
who  made  large  fortunes  by  swindling  the  gov- 
ernment and  robbing  our  brave  soldiers  ;  men  un- 
worthy of  the  name  !  who  would  sell  their  own 
souls  for  gold  !  " 

"  You  are  right,  sir ! "  said  Mr.  Travilla ; 
"one  who  could  take  advantage  of  the  necessities 
of  his  own  country,  to  enrich  himself  by  robbing 
her,  is  not  worthy  to  be  called  a  man." 

"  And  I  esteem  an  officer  who  could  rob  the 
soldiers  very  little  better,"  said  Daisy.  "  Again 
and  again  canned  fruits  and  other  niceties,  sent 
by  ladies  for  the  comfort  of  the  sick  and  wounded 
men,  were  appropriated  by  officers  who  did  not 
need  them,  and  knew  they  were  not  given  to 
them." 

"And  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter/ 
said  Harold,  with  his  placid,  patient  smile,  "is 
that  there  were  on  both  sides  men  who,  loving 
and  seeking  their  own   interest  above  connfcy 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  887 

personal  honor,  or  anything  else,  would  bring 
disgrace  upon  any  cause.  No,  Mrs.  Carrington, 
I  hare  no  bitter  feeling  toward  the  South.  My 
heart  aches  for  her  people  in  their  bereavements, 
their  losses,  and  all  the  difficulties  of  reconstruc- 
tion and  adapting  themselves  to  the  new  order 
of  things  which  is  the  result  of  the  war." 

Elsie  had  several  times  expressed  to  her  hus- 
baud  and  father  a  deep  anxiety  to  hear  from 
Yi.^mede,  and  had  written  to  both  Mr.  Mason  and 
Sjriggs,  inquiring  about  the  people  and  the  con- 
dition of  the  estate,  yet  with  but  slight  hope  of 
reply,  as  all  communication  with  the  place  had 
been  cut  or!  for  years,  and  it  was  more  than 
likely  that  one  or  both  had  been  driven,  or 
drifted  away  from  Ms  post  during  the  progress 
of  the  war. 

She  was  therefore  greatly  pleased  when,  on 
entering  the  parlor  one  morning  on  her  return 
from  a  drive,  she  found  Mr.  Mason  there  waiting 
for  an  interview. 

"  You  are  not  direct  from  Yiamede !  "  she 
asked,  when  they  had  exchanged  a  cordial  greet- 
ing. 

"  No,  Mrs,  Travilla,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  stayed 
as  long  as  I  could,  but  not  being  willing  to  go 
into  the  army,  was  finally  compelled  to  leave. 
Thst  was  more  than  two  years  ago.  But  I 
received  a  letter  from  Spriggs  only  yesterday, 
Written  from  the  estate.     He  was  in  the  Confed- 


888  ELSIE'S   WOMANHOOD. 

Grata  service;  and  when  the  struggle  was  over,  went 
back  to  \7iamede. 

"  He  says  it  was  not  visited  by  either  army,  and 
has  suffered  only  from,  neglect.  The  old  house- 
eervants  are  still  there — Aunt  Phillis,  Aunt  Sally, 
and  the  rest ;  many  of  the  field  hands,  too, 
occupying  their  old  quarters,  but  looking  ragged 
and  forlorn  enough. 

"They  are  willing  to  work  for  wages,  and 
Spriggs  begs  of  me  to  find  out  where  you  are, 
and  tell  you  that,  if  you  wish  it  and  will  furnish 
the  means,  he  will  hire  them,  and  do  the  best  he 
can  to  restore  the  place  and  make  it  profitable 
to  you. 

"  I  saw  your  name  in  the  list  of  arrivals  by  a 
late  steamer,  and  with  some  little  painstaking,  at 
length  learned  where  you  were." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Mason  ; 
and  I  am  inclined  to  think  well  of  Mr.  Spriggs' 
proposition,"  Elsie  answered  ;  "but  I  must  con- 
sult my — Ah,  here  they  are  ! "  as  the  husband 
and  father  entered  the  room  together. 

The  matter  was  under  discussion  for  the  next 
half-hour,  when  it  was  decided  to  accept  Mr. 
Spriggs'  proposal,  for  the  present  at  least. 

Elsie  then  said  to  Mr.  Mason  that  she  hoped 
he  was  not  engaged,  as  she  would  bo  glad  to  have 
him  return  to  Viamede  and  resume  his  former 
duties  there. 

He  colored  and  laughed,  as  he  answered,  "I 


BLBIE'S  WOMAN-HOOD.  380 

am  engaged,  Mrs.  Travilla,  though  not  in  the 
sense  yon  mean,  and  shall  be  glad  to  comply  with 
jovlt  wish,  if  you  do  not  object  to  my  taking  a 
wife  with  me." 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered,  smiling;  "the 
Bible  says,  e  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,' 
and  I  hope  you  will  be  all  the  happier  and  more 
useful  in  the  Master's  service  for  haying  a  bet- 
ter-half with  you.  A  suite  of  rooms  shall  be 
placed  at  your  service  and  your  wants  attended  to 
as  formerly." 

Mr.  Mason  returned  warm  thanks  for  her 
kindness,  and  took  his  departure,  evidently  well- 
pleased  with  the  result  of  his  calL 


Cjjajittr  Sjmfeijj. 


"  War,  war,  war  I 
Misery,  mnrder,  and  crime  J 
Crime,  murder,  and  woe," 


The  Travillas  accompanied  Miss  Stanhope 
on  her  return  to  Lansdale,  and  were  there  tc 
assist  at  the  reception  of  Harry  and  his  bride. 
After  that,  a  few  weeks  were  spent  by  them  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Koss. 

They  then  returned  to  Elmgroye,  where, 
detained,  partly  by  business  matters,  partly  by 
Harold's  condition  and  his  earnest  wish  to  have 
them  all  near  him  to  the  last,  they  lingered  until 
September. 

Harold  "  went  home,5'  early  in  that  month, 
dying  as  calmly  and  quietly  as  "  fades  a  summer 
cloud  away,"  or  "  sinks  the  gale  when  storms 
are  o'er." 

He  was  buried  with  military  honors,  and  the 
friends  returned  to  the  house,  sorely  to  miss,  in- 
deed, the  wasted  form,  and  wan,  yet  patient, 
cheerful  face,  and  the  loyed  yoice,  ever  ready 
with  words  of  consolation  and  hope ;  but  while 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  391 

weeping  oyer  their  own  present  bereavement, 
rejoicing  in  his  joy  and  the  assurance  of  a 
blessed  reunion  in  a  better  land,  when  they,  too3 
should  be  able  to  say,  "  I  have  fought  a  good 
fight,  I  have  finished  my  course :  I  hare  kept 
the  faith." 

It  was  a  melancholy  satisfaction  to  Eose  that 
she  had,  been  with  him  almost  constantly  during 
the  l&g^  three  months  of  his  life ;  her  husband 
had  not  hurried  her  \  but  now  both  they,  and 
Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie,  felt  that  the  time  had 
come  when  they  should  hasten  their  return  to 
their  own  homes. 

They  set  out  the  next  week  ;  not  a  gay  party, 
but  filled  with  a  subdued,  quiet  cheerfulness. 
Some  of  their  dear  ones,  but  lately  journeying 
with  them  toward  the  Celestial  City,  had  reached 
the  gates  and  entered  in  ;  but  they  were  follow- 
ing after,  and  would  overtake  them  at  length  ; 
and,  though  the  way  might  be  at  times  rough  and 
stony  to  their  weary  feet,  the  path  compassed  by 
foes  both  wily  and  strong,  yet  there  was  with 
them  One  mightier  than  all  the  hosts  of  hell,  and 
whc  ha.3  promised  never  to  leave  nor  forsake, 
Ci  In  all  these  things  they  should  be  more  than 
conquerors,  through  Him  that  loved  them," 

After  entering  Virginia,  they  saw  all  along 
the  route  the  sad  ravages  of  the  war,  and  their 
hearts  sent  up  earnest  petitions  that  those  waste 
places  might  speedily  be  restored,  and  their  dear 


392  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

native  land  never  again  be  visited  with  that  fear* 
ful  scourge. 

The  scenes  grew  more   saddening  as  they 
neared  their  journey's  end,  and  could  recog 
nize,  in  the  ruined  houses  and  plantations,  ths 
wrecks  of  the  former  happy  home3  of  friends  and 
neighbors. 

They  all  went  directly  to  the  Oaks,  where  the 
Travillas  were  to  find  a  home  until  Ion  could  be 
made  again  comfortably  habitable.  It  was  late 
in  the  afternoon  of  a  cloudy,  showery  day  that 
they  found  themselves  actually  rolling  quietly 
along  the  broad  winding  drive  that  led  through 
the  grounds  to  the  noble  mansion  they  had  left 
more  than  five  years  before. 

Even  here  there  were  sad  signs  of  neglect : 
the  grounds  had  forgotten  their  former  neat  and 
trim  appearance,  and  the  house  needed  paint  and 
some  slight  repairs.  But  this  was  all ;  and  they 
felt  it  a  cause  for  thankfulness  that  things  were 
no  worse. 

A  group  of  relatives  and  retainers  were 
gathered  in  the  veranda  to  greet  them  ;  an  aged, 
white-haired  man  the  central  figure,  around  him 
three  ladies  in  deep  mourning,  a  one-armed  gen- 
tleman, and  a  crowd  of  children  of  both  sexes 
and  all  ages,  from  the  babe  in  arms  to  the  youth 
of  sixteen  ;  while  in  the  rear  could  be  seen  Mrs. 
Murray's  portly  figure,  and  strong,  sensible  Scotch 
face,  beaming  with  pleasure,  relieved  by  a  back- 


ELSIE' 8  WGMA2W00D.  893 

ground  of  dusky  faces,  lighted  up  with  joy  and 
expectation. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  alighted  first,  gave  his  hand  to 
his  wife,  and  leaving  young  Horace  to  attend  to 
Rosebud,  hastened  to  meet  his  father. 

The  old  man  tottered  forward  and  fell  upon 
his  neck,  weeping  bitterly.  "  My  son,  my  son, 
my  only  one  now  ;  I  have  lost  all — everything — 
wife,  sons,  home  ;  all  swept  away,  nothing  left 
to  my  old  age  but  you." 

"  Yes,  that's  it  always,"  sneered  a  sharp  voice 
near  at  hand ;  "  daughter's  count  for  noth- 
ing ;  grandchildren  are  equally  valuable.  Sons, 
houses,  and  lands  are  the  only  possessions  worth 
having." 

"  Enna,  how  can  you!"  exclaimed  Mrs, 
Howard. 

But  neither  father  nor  brother  seemed  to  hear 
or  heed  the  unkind,  unfilial  remark.  The  old 
man  was  sobbing  on  his  son's  shoulder ;  he  sooth- 
ing him  as  tenderly  as  ever  he  had  soothed  wife 
or  daughter. 

"  My  home  is  yours  as  long  as  you  choose  to 
make  it  so,  my  dear  father  ;  and  Roselands  shall 
be  restored,  and  your  old  age  crowned  with  the 
love  and  reverence  of  children  and  children's 
children." 

Hastily  recovering  himself,  the  old  gentleman 
released  his  son,  gave  an  affectionate  greeting  to 
Rose,  and  catching  sight  of  young  Horace,  now 


394  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD 

a  handsome  youth  of  nineteen,  embraced  him 
exclaiming,  "Ah,  yes}  here  is  another  son  foi 
me  !  one  of  whom  I  may  well  be  proud.  Bosie, 
too,  grown  to  a  great  girl !  Glad  to  see  you,  dear." 
But  the  first  carriage  had  moved  on  ;  the  second 
had  come  up  and  discharged  its  living  freight,  and 
Mr.  Travilla,  with  Vi  in  his  arms,  Elsie  leading 
her  eldest  daughter  and  son,  had  stepped  upon 
the  veranda,  followed  by  Dinah  with  the  babe. 

"  Dear  grandpa,"  Mrs.  Tra  villa  said,  in  tender, 
tremulous  tones,  dropping  her  children's  hands 
to  put  her  arni3  about  his  neck,  as  he  turned 
from  Rosebud  to  her,  "  my  poor,  dear  grandpa, 
we  will  all  try  to  comfort  you,  and  make  your 
old  age  bright  and  happy.  See,  here  are  your 
great-grandchildren  ready  to  rise  up  and  call 
you  blessed." 

"  God  bless  you,  child  !  "  he  said,  in  quivering 
tones,  embracing  her  with  more  affection  than 
ever  before.  "And  this,"  laying  his  hand  on 
wee  Elsie's  head,  "  is  yourself  as  you  were  at  the 
same  age." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  dear  old  grandpa 
mamma  has  told  me  all  about  it,"  the  little  girl 
softly  whispered,  putting  her  small  arms  about 
Ins  neck  as  he  stooped  to  give  her  a  kiss. 

"Me  too,"  Eddie  put  in,  offering  his  hand 
and  lips. 

"  That's  right ;  good  boy ;  good  children. 
How  are  you,  Travilla  ?    You've  come  back  to 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  SS5 

&nd  ruin  and  desolation  where  yon  left  beauty 
and  prosperity ; "  and  the  aged  voice  shook 
with  emotion. 

Mr.  Travilla  had  a  kindly,  hearty  hand  shake^ 
and  gentle  sympathizing  words  for  him,  then 
presented  Vi  and  Baby  Harold. 

Meanwhile  the  greetings  were  being  exchanged 
by  the  others.  Lora  met  her  brother,  and  both 
Rose  and  Elsie,  with  the  warm  affection  of  earlier 
days,  mingled  with  grief  for  the  losses  and  sor- 
rows that  had  befallen  since  they  parted. 

Mr.  Howard,  too,  was  cordial  in  his  greeting, 
but  Louise  and  Enna  met  them  with  coldness 
and  disdain,  albeit  they  were  mere  pensioners 
upon  Horace's  bounty,  self-invited  guests  in 
his  house. 

Louise  gave  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  each,  in 
sullen  silence,  while  Enna  drew  back  from  the 
offered  hands,  muttering,  "A  set  of  Yankees 
come  to  spy  out  the  nakedness  of  the  land  ;  don't 
give  a  hand  to  them,  children." 

"As  you  like,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  answered  in- 
differently, stepping  past  her  to  speak  to  Mrs, 
Murray  and  the  servants  ;  "you  know  I  will  do 
a  brother's  part  by  my  widowed  sisters  all  the 
same." 

"For  shame,  Enna!"  said  Lora ;  "yon  are 
here  in  Horace's  house,  and  neither  he  nor  the 
others  ever  took  part  against  us." 

"  I  don't  care,  it  was  nearly  as  bad  to  stay 


396  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

away  and  give  no  help,"  muttered  the  offender, 
giving  Elsie  a  look  of  scorn  and  aversion. 

"Be  quiet,  will  you,  Madam  Johnson,"  said 
her  old  father ;  "  it  would  be  no  more  than  right 
if  Horace  should  turn  you  out  of  Ahe  house, 
Elsie,"  seeing  tears  coursing  the  cheeks  of  the 
latter.  "Don't  distress  yourself,  child ;  she's  not 
worth  minding." 

"That  is  quite  true,  little  wife,"  said  Mr, 
Travilla ;  "  and  though  you  have  felt  for  her  sor- 
rows, do  not  let  her  unkindness  wound  you." 

Elsie  wiped  away  her  tears,  hut  only  waiting 
to  speak  to  Mrs.  Murray  and  the  servants,  retired 
immediately  to  the  privacy  of  her  own  apart- 
ments, Mr.  Travilla  accompanying  her  with  their 
children  and  attendants. 

"Wearied  with  her  journey,  and  already  sad- 
dened by  the  desolations  of  the  country  over 
which  they  had  passed,  this  cold,  and  even 
insulting  reception  from  the  aunts — over  whose 
bereavements  she  had  wept  in  tender  sympathy — 
cut  her  to  the  quick. 

"Oh,  Edward,  how  can  they  behave  so  to 
papa  and  mamma  in  their  own  house  !"  she  said, 
sitting  down  upon  a  sofa  in  her  boudoir  and  lay- 
ing aside  her  hat,  while  her  eyes  again  over- 
flowed ;  "  dear  papa  and  mamma,  who  are  always 
so  kind  ! " 

"And  you,  too,  dearest,"  he  said,  placing 
himself  by  her  side  and  putting  an  arm  about 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  39? 

her.  "It  is  shameful  conduct,  but  cL  not  allow 
it  to  trouble  you." 

"  I  will  try  not  to  mind  it,  but  let  me  cry  : 
I  shall  get  oyer  it  the  sooner.  I  never  thought 
to  feel  so  uncomfortable  in  my  fathers  house. 
Ah,  if  Ion  were  only  ready  for  us  !  "  she  sighed. 

"  I  am  glad  that  your  home  must  be  with  me 
for  the  present,  daughter,  if  you  can  only  enjoy 
it,"  said  her  father,  who,  still  ever  watchful  oyer 
her  happiness,  had  followed  to  soothe  and  comfort 
her.  "  It  grieves  me  that  your  feelings  should 
have  been  so  wounded,"  he  added,  seating  him- 
self on  the  other  side,  and  taking  her  hand 
in  his. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  papa ;  it  is  for  you  and 
mamma,  even  more  than  myself,  that  I  feel  hurt." 

"Then  never  mind  it,  dearest.  Enna  has 
already  coolly  told  me  that  she  and  Louise  have 
settled  themselves  in  the  west  wing,  with  their 
children  and  servants  ;  where  they  purpose  to 
maintain  a  separate  establishment,  having  no 
desire  to  associate  with  any  of  us  ;  though  I,  of 
course,  am  to  supply  their  table  at  my  owe 
expense,  as  well  as  whatever  else  is  needed,"  he 
added,  with  a  slight  laugh  of  mingled  amusement 
and  vexation. 

"  Considering  it  a  great  privilege  to  be  per- 
mitted to  do  so,  I  presume,"  Mr.  Travilla 
remarked,  a  little  sarcastically. 

"  Of  course  ;  for  cool  impudence  Enna  oer- 


398  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

fcainly  exceeds  every  other  person  of  my  acquaint 
ance.'' 

"You  must  let  us  share  the  pmilege." 

' i  Thanks  ;  but  we  will  talk  of  that  at  another 
time.  I  know  you  and  Elsie  have  dreaded  the 
bad  influence  of  Enna's  spoiled  children  upon 
yours  ;  and  I,  too,  have  feared  it  for  them,  and  for 
Kosebud  ;  but  there  is  to  be  no  communication 
between  theirs  and  ours  ;  Louise's  one  set,  and 
Enna's  two,  keeping  to  their  own  side  of  the 
building  and  grounds,  and  ours  not  intruding 
upon  them.  Enna  had  it  all  arranged,  and  sim- 
ply made  the  announcement  to  me,  probably  with 
little  idea  of  the  relief  she  was  affording." 

"It  is  a  great  relief,"  said  Elsie.  "Aunt 
Lora's  are  better  trained,  and  will  not — " 

"They  do  not  remain  with  us ;  Pinegrove  is 
still  habitable,  and  they  are  here  c-Tsly  for  to-day 
to  welcome  us  home." 

Elsie's  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure.  "  And 
we  shall  have  our  own  dear  home  to  ourselves, 
after  all !  Ah,  how  foolish  I  have  been  to  so 
borrow  trouble." 

"I  have  shared  the  folly,"  her  father  saicL, 
smiling  ;  "  but  let  us  be  wiser  for  the  future. 
They  have  already  retired  to  their  own  quarters, 
and  you  will  see  no  more  of  them  for  the  present. 
My  father  remains  with  us." 

Mrs.  Howard  was  deeply  mortified  by  the 
conduct  of  her  sisters,  but  tried  to  excuse  them 


ELBLS'B  WOMAflEOOD.  399 

to  those  whom  they  were  treating  with  such 
rudeness  and  ingratitude. 

"  Louise  and  Enna  are  very  bitter,"  she  salt^ 
talking  with  Eose  and  Elsie  in  the  drawing-room 
after  tea ;  "but  they  have  suffered  much  in  the 
loss  of  their  husbands  and  our  brothers  ;  to  say 
nothing  of  property.  Sherman's  soldiers  were 
?ery  lawless — some  of  them,  I  mean  ;  and  they 
were  not  all  Americans — and  inflicted  much 
injury.  Enna  was  very  rude  and  exasperating 
to  the  party  who  visited  Roselands,  and  was 
roughly  handled  in  consequence  ;  robbed  of  her 
watch  and  all  her  jewelry  and  money. 

"They  treated  our  poor  old  father  with  great 
indignity  also  ;  dragged  him  down  the  steps  of 
the  veranda,  took  his  watch,  rifled  his  pockets, 
plundered  the  house,  then  set  it  on  fire  and 
burned  it  to  the  ground." 

Her  listeners  wept  as  she  went  on  to  describe 
more  minutely  the  scenes  of  violence  at  Rose- 
lands,  Ashlands,  Pinegrove,  and  other  planta- 
tions and  towns  in  the  vicinity  ;  among  them  the 
residences  of  the  pastor  and  his  venerable  elder, 
whose  visits  were  so  comforting  to  Mrs.  Travilla 
in  her  last  sickness. 

"  They  were  Union  men,"  Lora  said,  in  con- 
clusion, "  spending  their  time  and  strength  in 
self-denying  efforts  for  the  spiritual  good  ei  both 
whites  and  black*,  and  had  suffered  much  at  the 
hands  of  the  Confederates  ;  yet  were  stripped  oi 


400  j£L8IE'3  WOMANHOOD. 

eTerything  by  Sherman's  troops,  threatened  with 
instant  death,  and  finally  left  to  starve,  actually 
being  without  food  for  several  days." 

"  Dreadful  I "  exclaimed  Rose.  "  I  could  not 
have  believed  any  of  our  officers  would  allow 
such  things.  But  war  is  very  cruel,  and  gives 
opportunity  to  wicked,  cruel  men,  on  both  sides 
to  indulge  their  evil  propensities  and  passions. 
Thank  God,  it  is  over  at  last ;  and  oh,  may  he, 
In  his  great  goodness  and  mercy,  spare  us  are- 
aewal,  of  it." 

"  I  say  amen  to  that ! "  responded  Mrs.  How- 
u:d  earnestly.  "  My  poor  Ned  I  my  brothers  ? 
tny  crippled  husband  !  Oh,  I  sometimes  think 
my  heart  will  break ! " 

It  was  some  minutes  ere  she  could  speak  again, 
for  weeping,  and  the  others  wept  with  her. 

But  resuming.  "We  were  visited  by  both 
armies,"  she  said,  "  and  one  did  about  as  much 
mischief  as  the  other  ;  and  between  them  there 
is  but  little  left :  they  did  not  burn  us  out  at 
Pinegrove,  but  stripped  us  very  bare." 

"  Aunt  Lora,  dear  Aunt  Lora  ! "  Elsie  sob- 
bed, embracing  her  with  much  tenderness ;  "  we 
cannot  restore  the  loved  one3,  but  your  damages 
shall  be  repaired." 

"  Ah,  it  will  take  a  lifetime ;  we  have  no 
means  left." 

"  You  shall  borrow  of  me  without  interest 
With  tte  exception  of  the  failure  of  income  from 


MLSIE'8  WOMANHOOD.  401 

^iamede,  I  have  lost  nothing  by  the  war  but  the 
negroes.  My  husband's  losses  are  somewhat 
heavier.  But  our  united  income  is  still  very 
large ;  so  that  I  believe  I  can  help  you  all,  and 
I  shall  delight  to  do  it,  even  should  it  involve  the 
sale  of  most  of  my  jewels." 

"Dear  child,  you  are  very  very  kind,"  Lora 
said,  deeply  moved  ;  "  and  it  may  be  that  Ed- 
ward,  proud  aa  he  is,  will  accept  some  assistance 
from  you." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Rose, 
Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie,  mounted  their  horses 
directly  after  breakfast,  and  set  out  to  view  for 
themselves  the  desolations  of  Roselands  and  Ion, 
preparatory  to  considering  what  could  be  done  to 
restore  them  to  their  former  beauty. 

Roselands  lying  nearest,  received  their  atten 
tion  first,  but  so  greatly  were  the  well-remem 
bered  landmarks  changed,  that  on  arriving,  they 
could  scarce  believe  themselves  there. 

Not  one  of  the  noble  old  trees,  that  had  bor- 
dered the  avenue  and  shaded  the  lawn,  was  left 
standing  ;  many  lay  prostrate  upon  the  ground, 
while  others  had  been  used  for  fuel.  Of  the  house 
nanght  remained  but  a  few  feet  of  stone  wall., 
some  charred,  blackened  beams,  and  a  heap  of 
ashes.  The  gardens  were  a  desert,  the  lawn  was 
changed  to  a  muddy  field  by  the  tramping  of 
many  feet,  and  furrowed  with  deep  ruts  where 
the  artillery  had  passed  and  repassed  ;  fences, 


402  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

hedge-rows,  shrubbery — all  had  disappeared  ;  and 
the  fields,  once  cultivated  with  great  care,  were 
oyergrown  with  weeds  and  nettles. 

"  We  have  lost  our  way  !  this  cannot  be  the 
place  ! "  cried  Rose,  us  they  reined  in  their  horse* 
on  the  precise  spot  where  Arthur  and  Walter  had 
taken  their  farewell  look  at  home. 

"  Alas,  alas,  it  is  no  other  ! "  Mr.  Travilla 
replied,  in  moved  tones. 

The  hearts  of  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Elsie  were 
too  full  for  speech,  and  hot  tears  were  coursing 
down  the  cheeks  of  the  latter. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  pressed  forward,  and  the  others 
followed,  slowly  picking  their  way  tarough  the 
ruins,  grief  swelling  in  their  hearts  at  every  step. 
Determined  to  know  the  worst,  they  made  the 
circuit  of  the  house  and  of  the  whole  estate. 

"  Can  it  ever  be  restored  ?  "  Elsie  asked  at 
length,  amid  her  tears. 

"  The  house  may  be  rebuilt  in  a  few  months, 
and  fields  and  gardens  cleared  of  weeds,  and  made 
to  resume  something  of  the  old  look,"  Mr.  Dins- 
more answered  ;  "  but  the  trees  were  the  growth 
of  years,  and  this  generation  will  not  see  their 
places  filled  with  their  like." 

They  pursued  their  way  to  Ion  in  almost 
unbroken  silence.  Here  the  fields  presented  the 
same  appearance  of  neglect ;  lawn  and  gardens 
were  a  wild,  but  scarcely  a  tree  had  {fjlea,  and 
though  the  house  had  been  pillaged,  /^nitine 


ELSlE'b  WOMANHOOD.  408 

destroyed,  windows  broken,  and  floors  torn  up,  g 
few  rooms  were  still  habitable ;  and  here  they 
found  several  of  the  house-servants,  who  hailed 
their  coming  with  demonstrations  of  delight 

They  had  lived  on  the  products  of  the  orchard 
and  grapery,  and  by  cultivating  a  small  patch  of 
ground  and  keeping  a  few  fowls, 

Elsie  assumed  an  air  of  cheerfulness,  for  her 
husband's  sake  ;  rejoiced  that  the  trees  had  been 
spared,  that  the  family  burial  place  had  escaped 
desecration,  and  talked  gayly  of  the  pleasure  of 
repairing  damages,  and  making  improvements 
till  Ion  should  not  have  a  rival  for  beauty  the 
country  round. 

Her  efforts  were  appreciated,  and  met  fully 
half-way,  by  her  loving  spouse. 

The  four,  taking  possession  of  the  rustic  seat 
on  the  top  of  a  little  knoll,  where  the  huge 
branches  of  a  giant  oak  protected  them  from  the 
sun,  took  a  lengthened  survey  of  the  house  and 
grounds,  and  held  a  consultation  in  regard  to 
ways  and  mean3. 

Returning  to  the  Oaks,  the  gentlemen  went 
to  the  library,  where  old  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  sitting 
alone,  and  reported  to  him  the  result  of  the 
morning  conference.  Roselands  was  to  be  rebuilt 
as  fast  as  men  and  materials  could  be  procured., 
Elsie  furnishing  the  means — a  very  large  sum  of 
money,  of  which  he  wa3  to  have  the  use,  free  oi 


404  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

interest,  for  a  long  term  of  years,  or  during  his 
natural  life. 

Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  knew  his  father  would 
aever  take  it  as  a  gift,  and  indeed,  it  cost  him  & 
aard  struggle  to  bring  his  pride  down  to  thi 
acceptance  of  it  as  offered.  But  he  consented  at 
last,  and  as  the  other  two  retired,  begged  thai 
Elsie  would  come  to  him  for  a  moment 

She  came  in  so  quietly  that  he  was  not  awan 
of  her  presence.  He  sat  in  the  corner  of  a  sofa, 
his  white  head  bowed  upon  his  knees,  and  his 
aged  frame  shaking  with  sobs. 

Kneeling  at  his  side,  she  put  her  arms  about 
him,  whispering,  "Grandpa,  my  poor,  dear 
grandpa,  be  comforted;  for  we  all  lore  and 
honor  you." 

"  Child  !  child  !  I  haye  not  deserved  this  at 
your  hands,"  he  sobbed.  "I  turned  from  you 
when  you  came  to  my  house,  a  little,  desolate 
motherless  one,  claiming  my  affection." 

"  But  that  was  many  years  ago,  dear  grandpa, 
and  we  will  '  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead.' 
You  will  not  deny  me  the  great  pleasure  of  help- 
ing to  repair  the  desolations  of  war  in  the  dear 
home  of  my  childhood  ?  You  will  take  it  as  help 
gent  by  Him  whose  steward  lam?" 

He  clasped  her  close,  and  his  kisses  and  tears 
were  warm  upon  her  cheek,  as  he  murmured,  in 
low,  broken  tones,  "  God  bless  you,  child  !  I  can 
refuse  you  nothing.     You  shall  do  as  you  will." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  UOb 

At  last,  Elsie  had  won  her  way  to  her  stern 
grandfather's  heart;  and  henceforth  she  was  dear 
to  him  as  ever  one  of  his  children  had  been. 

It  is  a  sweet  October  morning  in  the  yeai 
1867.  Ion,  restored  to  more  than  its  pristine 
loveliness,  lies  basking  in  the  beams  of  the  newly 
risen  snn ;  a  tender  mist,  gray  in  the  distance, 
rose-colored  and  golden  where  the  rays  of  light 
strike  it  more  directly,  enveloping  the  landscape  ; 
the  trees  decked  in  holiday  attire— green,  rnsset* 
orange,  and  scarlet 

The  children  are  romping  with  each  othei 
and  their  nnrses,  in  the  avenue ;  with  the  excep- 
tion of  wee  Elsie,  now  a  fair,  gentle  girl  of  nine, 
who  occupies  a  rustic  seat  a  little  apart  from  tha 
rest  She  has  a  Bible  in  her  hand,  and  the  sweet 
young  face  is  bent  earnestly,  lovingly,  over  the 
holy  book. 

On  the  veranda  stands  the  mother,  watching 
her  darlings  with  eyes  that  grow  misty  with 
glad  tears,  while  her  heart  sends  up  its  joyous 
thanksgiving  to  Him  who  had  been  the  Guide  cf 
her  youth  and  the  stay  and  staff  of  matnrer 
years. 

A  step  approaches,  and  her  husband's  ana 
encircles  her  waist,  while,  as  she  turns  her  head, 
his  kindly  gray  eyes  gaze  into  the  depths  of  her 
soft  hazel  ones,  with  a  love  stronger  than  life— 
or  than  death. 


&>8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Do  you  know,  little  wife,  what  day  this  is  P" 

She  answered  with  a  bright,  glad  smile ;  then 
her  head  dropped  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Yes,  my  husband  ;  ten  yeans  ago  to-day  I 
committed  my  happiness  to  your  keeping,  and 
never  for  one  moment  have  I  regretted  the  step," 

"  Bless  you,  darling,  for  the  word  !  How 
great  are  the  mercies  of  God  to  me  !  Yonder  is 
our  first-born.  I  see  you  as  you  were  when  first 
I  met  and  coveted  you ;  and  here  you  stand  by 
my  side,  the  true  wife  who  has  been  for  ten  yeare 
the  joy  and  light  of  my  heart  and  home.  Wife,  I 
love  you  better  to-day  than  ever  before,  and  if  it 
be  the  will  of  God,  may  we  yet  have  five  times 
ten  years  to  live  together  in  love  and  harmony •' 

"  We  shall ! "  she  answered  earnestly ;  "  etei 
aity  is  ours,  and  death  itself  can  part  us  but  for 
a  little  while." 


THE   END. 


